All You Wanted
by Dove and Bena
Summary: Ten years after Hogwarts, Harry Potter is an Auror working for the Ministry, and Dark dealings are reported in France. He goes to investigate, but when he meets the woman allegedly in charge, he can't seem to keep objective...
1. Exploding Teapots

~*All You Wanted*~

Chapter One: Exploding Teapots

Bena: Hiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!! Hi! Hi! Over here! Hi there! …I think they've seen me now. Okay. Well, Dove and I finally got around to writing at fabulous collaboration fic-naturally, due almost entirely to her genius, but we're still writing it… she's writing it, I'm bounding dialogue… um… okay, so it's more me helping out with ridiculousnessness in a story that is entirely her baby. But it's fun! And for fans of "Wings of Hope," you'll love this-Alex causing international romance tangles! Wheeee!

Dove: For once, I'm the calm one.  Kind of.  Anyway, this is one of the many plot bunnies we've bred aboard the SSS.S. Gillyweed, pairing Harry and Gabrielle in more and more ridiculous circumstances as our moods lifted.  The result?  We're all scrambling to enlarge our WIP lists.  But again, being a collab, this isn't likely to stall.  That's not the best part, though.  The best part is the irony.  It's definitely the irony…

Bena: Don't forget the exploding teapots!

Dove: How _could I be so __stupid?_

Bena: Does that mean I'm ahead now?

Dove: No, you have a dozen to go at least.  Let's move on to the fic, shall we?

Disclaimer: My computer has a mind of her own.  Yes, ask anyone who knows me, I yell at her sometimes, and she does strange things to drive me batty.  In circumstances like this, how _could I be responsible?_

_"My problem is a rampant lack of apathy."_

"Let me get this straight," Alexander Whitman asked slowly, setting down his glass. "You've been tracking down rogue wizards and the remnants of the Dark Lord's followers for almost ten years now, and you're only just now taking a vacation?"

            "I needed a short break. Besides, the Weasleys invited me to visit for a few days."

            "Short break?!?!"

            "Well, yes. I don't need long."

            Alex looked at his glass, wondered briefly when all the liquid therein had disappeared, and stared back at the Auror in stunned blankness. "And people say I'm trying to work myself into an early grave."

            "Yes, well…" Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "You do tend to get a lot more mixed up in your work than I do."

            "Let's not get into that."

            "Let's not."

            The two young men sat opposite each other in Alex's office, the older Ministry Ambassador to Foreign Wizards shaking his head in exasperation at Harry's statement. "You know, you were more fun when you were still in school."    

            "No," Harry said calmly, "I just wasn't getting paid for doing the same things I'm doing now."

            "Your victory," Alex conceded, pulling out a little notebook and marking a point.

            "Who's up?" Harry asked.

            "I am," Alex replied calmly.  "You're catching up, though."

            "Excuse me, Mister Whitman?"

            The two men turned to the doorway to find Alex's secretary was standing uncertainly in the doorway.  At least, she was as uncertain as she ever seemed to look, which for Parvati Patil was saying something else.  After all, she was always sure of herself and her future, and when she wasn't sure she carelessly made it up.  Therefore, her uncertainty was expressed in a slight hitch in her voice and perhaps a bit of an air about her posture.  She smoothed the short hair which was perfectly settled around her face, making her look almost angelic, which Alex, at least, had cause to know was not at all true.  She seemed hesitant to interrupt, however.

            "Good to see you, Parvati," Harry said easily.

            "Pleasure," she replied shortly.  "Mister Whitman, Minister Liang is on the floo, and he seems most upset.  He demands to speak with you, though as my Chinese is nonexistent and his accent is terrible, it's quite possible he was inviting me to a social function.  One never knows."

            Alex looked extremely uncomfortable for a moment, then shrugged it off, took a swallow of coffee, and stood.  "I'll be just a minute, Harry."

            Harry grinned and waved him towards the doorway.  "Go on.  Business generally outranks social calls."

            Alex flushed for a moment, then glared at Parvati as though this was all her fault. "Yes, well."  With that, he left the room, his secretary discreetly following behind him.

            Harry watched them leave with a wry expression on his face. "Now, if only he actually thought of this as business and not pleasure…"

            "Harry!" Angelina Weasley, formerly Angelina Johnson, stormed into the office. After a brief career in Quidditch that had ended with a Bludger injury and marriage to Fred Weasley, there was nothing left to do but join up with the Ministry as an Auror, and Harry's superior. "There you are! Why do I always have to place a locating charm on you to find where you've hidden yourself?" she fumed.

            "Because you can't live without the excitement of the chase?" Harry supplied.

            "For that matter," she added, sitting herself in Alex's chair, "why is it that half the time I find you in here doing absolutely nothing, and in a supremely insubordinate mood besides?"

            "Oh come now, Angelina, you should be used to it by now. You deal with it enough at home. Besides, I'm on vacation."

            "Not anymore you're not!" Angelina shot back. "The Minister needs to see you at once. Something big has come up. He insists on speaking with you."

            Harry glanced out the door. "Is he on the floo with anxious problems involving his sister?" he murmured.

            "What?"

            "Nothing."

            Angelina raised an eyebrow. "You know the Minister doesn't have a sister. He does, however, have a schedule. Now move it!"

            Harry stood. "If you say so."

            Angelina just sighed, and shooed him out the door.

            Harry walked down the corridors of the Ministry, pausing briefly to peer through the door where Alex was exerting more diplomatic power than anyone should be allowed to have to try and assuage the Southeast Asian Minister of Magic. Parvati looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and rolled her eyes. Harry winked, and continued on his way. Luckily, Alex's office wasn't that far from the Minster's, saving him the trouble of having to exert himself more than necessary.

            After all, defeating a Norwegian werewolf wasn't anything compared to crossing the full Ministry during working hours. 

            Harry knocked on the door to the Minister's office, and smiled at the redheaded woman who answered. "Hello there. I'm selling exploding teapots courtesy of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes. Care to buy any?"

            "My husband has exploding teapots now?" Angelina asked in exasperation as she came up behind him.

            The woman frowned. "Get in here. The quicker you get in, the sooner I get to take a short break from serving that man."

            "And the faster we leave and the sooner you get to go back in there," Harry pointed out.

            Ginny Weasley groaned. "Don't remind me. Come on, he's expecting you."

            Angelina waved her good-bye before disappearing down the hallway.  "Well then, left to face the Hungarian Horntail on my own, am I?" Harry sighed.  "Such a fair-weather friend, our Angelina."

            "Explode the teapot on him.  It might help," Ginny shrugged.

            "Or he might bite my head off," Harry countered.

            "He seems inclined to do that on a regular basis anyway."

            Harry shrugged.  "The Minister of Magic hates me.  Oh, I'm _so surprised."_

            "Try to contain your enthusiasm," Ginny responded dryly.  "You realize of course, that we're wasting his time, chatting out here?"

            Just then, what could be described best as a roar came from the office attached to the reception room.  "Virginia!  Get me Potter in here _now!  This isn't a bloody tea party!"_

            Ginny winced.  "Get in there before he bites both of our heads off.  Anyway, if he thinks this is a tea party, perhaps you should take that teapot in after all."

            "I'll take that under consideration," Harry said, then walked to the office and opened the door.

            The Minister of Magic sat behind a huge desk piled high with papers, looking pristine in pale gray robes which matched his eyes, and a slight scowl on his face.  As Harry was of the opinion this expression never changed, he wasn't particularly intimidated.  "About time, Potter."

            Harry sighed and didn't snap back at him, remembering that this was, after all, his superior by some ridiculous joke of fate.  He had the feeling that the Powers That Be were in consensus in making his life preposterous and more than a little pathetic.  That was the only way he could explain Draco Malfoy sitting behind the Minister of Magic's desk, looking very much at home.  "With all due respect… sir," Harry began, "I was supposed to go on vacation for a week starting tonight.  You approved it yourself."

            Draco smirked.  "It's overridden.  You are needed elsewhere.  After all, an Auror's life isn't a picnic, now is it?"

            "Exploding teapot," Harry muttered.

            "What was that, Potter?" Draco asked, one eyebrow cocked.

            How Draco Malfoy had managed to become the Minister of Magic, no one was entirely sure.  He had acted as a double agent during the war on Voldemort under Severus Snape's jurisdiction.  After the death of the latter, Draco had continued on, though everyone was firmly convinced that he was only doing it to piss off his father.  It was rather large-scale, but then again, as Blaise Zabini of the Department of Mysteries said, it wasn't much like Draco to do anything with any level of tact.  After the war, he disappeared for five years.  Rumors said he had set up base in Siberia somewhere, and this, at least, seemed plausible, as he had come back speaking several languages fluently, Russian among them.  He had made a splash with his return, and after being named "Most Eligible Bachelor" by Witch Weekly, he simply charmed his way up the Ministry ladder.  Ginny grumbled that he had to have Veela blood in him somewhere, because when he wanted something, he had simply to ask for it, and people ran to accommodate him.

            Harry had never met a male Veela, so he couldn't speculate.

            Ginny had ended up in his service much to her horror after an injury in the line of duty had taken her out of active Auror service.  She had been Harry's partner at times some years ago.  After being subjected to three hours of a consecutive Cruciatus Curse, she had been admitted to St. Mungo's for the next year, putting her life and memories back together.  Some hidden benefactor had paid for the best treatment available, however, and a year later Virginia Weasley was released with a clean bill of health, retaining only an intense fear of snakes.  No one had ever asked her what exactly had happened to her, but Harry had a feeling it had had to do with that nasty Nagini of Voldemort's.

            Once she was ready to return to the Ministry, Draco was already firmly enthroned in the office of Minister and throwing orders right and left.  When he said she was mentally unstable and he would not allow her back into active service, Ginny had a conniption that had the whole Ministry shaking and stepping lightly for weeks afterwards.  Draco had calmly waited out her tirade, then put her into the position of his aide, elevating her rank considerably and infuriating her to no end.  She had said that as she was mentally unstable, she was sure the Ministry would forgive her for sneaking into Draco's bedroom and blowing off his head in the middle of the night and doing the world at large a favor.  He only smiled at her and told her that if she wanted entrance to his bedroom, she had only to ask.  Thus they nipped at each other, and bets were out in at least three departments on how long it would be before he actually got her there.  The betting pool was up to three hundred Galleons, and while Harry had bet on "never" on principle, he had the sick sort of feeling in his stomach which Parvati would have called a premonition that said "soon".

            "I said," Harry said calmly, "exploding teapot."

            Draco narrowed his eyes. "If I didn't need you, I'd kill you for that."

            From where she stood with her head poking through the doorway, Ginny cackled with amusement, resulting in Draco quickly ordering her to stop eavesdropping and get him some coffee. Then he leaned back, and stared at Harry. "So, why exactly did it take you so long to get here, Potter?"

            "I was on vacation," Harry repeated. "And I was helping keep us out of a prospective diplomatic incident with China."

            The corner of Draco's mouth quirked. "I'm seriously considering marrying that Whitman off to Minister Liang's sister just so we won't have to deal with him here."

            "He'd be dead within a week."

            "Exactly."

            Ginny came back with two cups of coffee and a glare for her boss.  Harry shook his head, and sat down, not bothering to hide his disgust with the situation. "So, what exactly is keeping me from my first vacation ever since starting work here?"

            Draco smiled with honeyed venom. "Oh my. Does the famous Harry Potter need a break? Working against the Dark Arts too difficult for you?"

            "We're not in school, Minister Malfoy. Cut the crap and let's out with it shall we?"

            Draco leaned back in his chair, going serious. "We've some reports of dark dealings in France. It seems to have started out in the region of Paris, but it's spread to the point where we can't really be sure where it truly originated, nor who might be behind it." He folded his hands. "However, we have some prospective suspects or possible information sources that we'd like you to look at."

            He handed a file to Harry, who opened it and began rifling through it, skimming the pictures and basic information. A young woman, more a teenage girl, really, peered back at him from the photographs, often smiling shyly, her curly blonde hair pulled back from her eerily attractive face, merely going about business or making faces at the photographer in the earlier ones, and darting out of the frames nervously in the later shots.

            "She hasn't been seen in several years now," Draco added. "These are all older identification and surveillance photos. She'd be in her early twenties by now. There's an address in there where we believe she is living. You need to go question her, and find out what she has to do with this rise in dark arts. Be careful. She's a prime suspect right now, and caution is highly advised."

            Harry looked at him with suspicion. "Why exactly are you giving this case to me?"

            "What?" Draco asked with feigned innocence. "Aren't you the Boy Who's Always Getting Lucky?"

            Behind the door, Ginny flipped to a page in a small notebook, and made a small check. "Score another for Malfoy. I don't think Harry's ever going to catch up," she muttered with a small grin.

***

            When Harry arrived back at Alex's office, after receiving a thorough briefing from Angelina on protocol during the assignment, which he deemed highly unimportant and had mostly ignored, Parvati welcomed him with a smile that reminded him of a cat that had just gotten the canary. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Are we at war yet?"

            "No danger yet," she replied. "If you dare brave the tempest, by all means, go on in."

            "Is it that time of month already?"

            "For Alex, isn't it always?"

            Harry shook his head-a gesture that he seemed to find himself repeating more often today than ever before-and headed into the office. Alex sat at his desk, forehead resting on the cool wood, arms hanging at his sides, perched precariously on the edge of his chair. Harry sat down, picked up his forgotten cup of coffee, determined it was now too cold to really enjoy, and waited for any sound. None emerged from the statuesque Ambassador.

            "So."

            Alex didn't reply. 

            Harry tipped the rest of the coffee out into a plant in the corner, and twirled the cup around on his finger. "Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?"

            Still no reply. Harry prodded Alex's arm. "That's your cue to start up the Gilbert and Sullivan, Ambassador Whitman."

            Alex looked up, voice dripping enough sarcasm to flood a small country. "Oh, are you a diplomat now? I had no idea. Will wonders never cease."

            Harry sat on the edge of the desk. "Oh, didn't the bride take well to your proposal?"

            "If we didn't need you so badly, I'd kill you." Alex sat up, and pulled the notebook from his desk drawer again. "Score one for you. You're only three behind."

            "You know," Harry mused, "that's the second time today someone's threatened my life."

            "It won't be the last. I can assure you of that."

            "Oh!" Harry rubbed Alex's feathery red hair, making it stand up. "Did the minister actually have business to talk about this time? Were you hoping for another social call instead?"

            Alex smoothed his hair back down. "Ha, ha. You're a riot, Potter."

            "But I'm right, aren't I?"

            "It's always business. This time, it was more about possible alliances, though."

            "Which of course you jeopardize every time you speak to him."

            "Tsau is a professional, the same as me. You don't give me enough credit."

            "Oh," Harry said, raising an eyebrow, "so he's Tsau now? Since when are you two on a first name basis?"

            "Since we both decided to subject you to Chinese water torture the next time you dare interfere with diplomatic business," Alex responded, finally cracking a smile and tossing the notebook at Harry's head. Harry caught it, and flipped open to the tally page.

            "You liar, I'm only one away from you! Well, just for that, I thing Tsau darling is going to receive a heartfelt confession from a certain Ambassador from the English Ministry…"

            "You wouldn't dare," Alex said.

            "Oh, I don't know," Harry teased. "Little Li might find it entertaining."

            Glaring at the mention of the Chinese Minister's youngest sister, Alex marked another check in the notebook.  "You're an ass, you know that?"

            "So I've been told. You should mention that opinion to Minister Malfoy sometime, he might promote you."

            Alex chuckled.  "So.  I take it that after yelling at you for no particular reason and making Virginia seethe, the Minister of Magic has decided that you, in fact, do not need a vacation."

            Harry grimaced.  "Something like that."  He picked a picture out of the file and threw it across the table.  "She look evil to you?"

            Alex studied the beautiful, lively face of the girl in the image, who waved at him.  "Not in the least," he agreed.  "Then again, neither did Neville Longbottom."

            "No," Harry agreed quietly.  His heart still gave a small pang for the pudgy, clumsy boy he had considered a friend during his Hogwarts years.  Then again, Hermione's rejection and the fact that all the boys in his dorm had banded together, leaving him out, had changed his sunny disposition.  It was still a shock when Neville had come up in the enemy lines during the war.  Harry always thought that it was highly ironic that he had at first compared Peter Pettigrew to him.  Instinct, after all, was always right.  Being an Auror, he was well versed in both irony and instinct.  "Well, I'm to look the girl up in Paris and see what sort of hoodoo she's up to over there."

            "The news from France has been more than a little disturbing lately," Alex agreed with concern.  "Followers of some hidden darkness banding together.  Killings, unexpected magical residue, turmoil in the Ministry.  I don't understand why the French Ministry isn't handling it.  Why are they sending you?"

            "They're probably short-staffed," Harry sighed.  "It looks like Voldemort all over again.  You've taken History of Magic.  You remember what it was like here when he was rising.  Or Grindewald, for that matter.  I'm sure I'll be working closely with Minister Poulain on this."

            Alex grinned.  "Well, at least you'll be working in close quarters with a highly attractive woman that is half-blooded Veela."

            "Who's old enough to be my mother," Harry said calmly.  "If anything, I hope she doesn't consider me an incompetent."

            "It could be worse.  I'm the one usually considered an incompetent.  You're the Boy Who Lived.  Although if Minister Malfoy keeps driving you at this pace, you won't be for much longer."

            "Do bring flowers to my funeral."

            "Naturally."

            Harry examined the picture in his hand again. "So, how much do you know about the situation, exactly? Malfoy wasn't exactly a fountain of information."

            "Sorry," Alex said, shaking his head, "but I'm a diplomat. I don't do mysteries. That's everyone else's forte."

            "Whereas yours is making diplomatic relations as difficult as possible."

            Alex was spared the need to respond by Parvati peeking into the room again. "Mr. Whitman? Floo for you. It's Li Liang."

            Alex dropped his head onto the desk. "Tell her I've been struck dead by lightning."

            "You used that last week. And she didn't believe it then, either." Parvati gestured towards the exit, grinning maliciously. "Come, now, the lovely paragon of perfection wishes a word with you."

            Alex stood, and looked at Harry pleadingly. "How do you deal with them?"

            "Not at all. I don't speak Chinese," he answered, purposefully playing dense. Alex shot him a glare, quickly shook himself into a professional demeanor, and left.

            Harry put the photo back into the file, and decided now was as good a time as any to get going. "Parvati, which floo room is free?"

            "Alex is in the one where Minister Liang contacted him earlier." Parvati frowned. "I think the one down in the direction of Muggle Relations is free."

            "Shouldn't you call him Mr. Whitman? He is your boss."

            "Since when do you care about professional protocol?"

            Harry frowned. "All right, you get that one."

            Parvati whipped out a notebook, and made a small mark. "I'm ahead."

            "Does everyone have those now?"

            She smiled. "You might want to get going before someone finds more work for you to do. Good luck. I'll make sure Alex doesn't create an international love triangle while you're gone."

            Harry patted her shoulder. "Compared to that, this job seems easy."

            He headed off towards the Muggle Relations division, and wished he had time to drop by to pay Hermione a quick visit-but, as Parvati had said, the longer he stayed, the more likely it was that something else would come up on top of this new assignment. It was all part of the vast conspiracy that seemed to have started after Hogwarts. Or before. By now, Harry was convinced the Powers That Be were having far too much fun at his expense.

            Once he'd taken the floo to Paris, Harry went into full Auror mode. Thankfully, his godfather had taught him more than enough French for him to make his way around Paris without much difficulty, which was particularly good, since Ministry rules stated that while on assignment, Aurors must be able to blend in with the Muggle world in case of dark dealings that weren't confined strictly to the wizarding community. He took the subway, heading towards the French Ministry of Magic.

            As the cars jerked around the city, Harry flipped through the file, looking for any details he might need right away. He very quickly found that something. A handwritten note from Draco was tucked in the front pocket. He wondered why he hadn't noticed it before, decided it was probably due to the fact he was too busy looking at the lovely suspect in the pictures, and read.

            _Important: It is imperative that you do no tell Minister Poulain more than you need to. She has some connections to this case which we do not wish her to know about until we know more. Only tell her what is necessary, and do not, under any circumstances, let her know any of the suspects' names! This last piece is especially important. Don't make me have your head on a platter, Potter._

_            Harry frowned. "Now we're up to three threats."_

            The strangeness of the instructions was enough to put him more on guard than he had been, however, and for the remainder of the trip, he hoped this assignment wasn't some contrived attempt on Draco's part to destroy him.

            After all, he'd done it before, even if it had been ten years ago.

            Not everyone could change overnight.

            He exited the subway after two stops and headed up the stairs into the bright Parisian sunlight.  It being summer, there were many people about, shopping, eating, and generally having a wonderful time.  On impulse, Harry bought an ice cream cone from a street vendor and licked at it as he walked down the street towards the building that would allow him to enter the Ministry building.  He hadn't been in France on business for at least three years, but he did remember that the desserts were spectacular.

            He finished the ice cream just as he approached a small, tidy looking café with the name "Les Deux Canards" and a pretty picture of ducks in the background of the sign over the cheerful red canopy.  There were a few people drinking coffee an eating croissants at the little tables set up on the sidewalk.

            Harry went in and smiled at the elderly lady standing behind the counter, busily pouring coffee.  "Bonjour, Madeleine," he said cordially.

            The elderly witch smiled at him and greeted him, quickly giving him a cup of espresso.  He sat at a table and sipped it for a few minutes before nonchalantly standing up and heading for the bathroom.  Once there, he entered the second stall of three, which had an "On Ne Marche Pas" sign on the door, locked the door behind him, and circled his wand around the attractive picture of running colors on French Impressionist style.  The wall slid silently open, and he walked through into a long hallway, which opened soon enough into a large lobby done in pale peach marble, with a desk manned by three young, attractive witches who seemed very busy.

            Harry approached the desk, smiled, and asked to see the Minister.  Informed she was waiting for him, one of the witches offered to escort him upstairs.  He thanked her and followed her through many corridors, up slowly moving stairways in the Muggle style, and through doors.  Finally, they entered a small reception area.  The young, efficient looking wizard at wok there gestured for Harry to enter, and he stepped into a clean, organized office with a large window letting in sunlight, and no pictures on the walls.  The office, therefore, was dominated by the woman in it, and Harry was sure it was intentional.  She had pale blonde hair, blue eyes, and minimal lines around them that seemed to come equally from laughing and frowning.  Despite her age, she did not look old, but rather seasoned and quite lovely.

            "Good afternoon, Meester Potter," she said with a slight accent.  "I 'ave 'ad a floo from Monsieur Malfoy telling me to expect you.  Won't you sit down?"

            Harry did, and offered a hand, deciding he liked her pleasant demeanor.  "It is lovely to meet you at last, Minister Poulain.  I have been hearing wonderful things about you."

            "Ah, you flatter me.  France is in turmoil.  I do ze best I can."

            "It is a difficult time," he agreed.  He thought he had met her somewhere before.  "You seem very familiar, Minister, if you will allow me to say so.  Do you know a Fleur Delacour?"

            A shadow crossed her face but quickly vanished, the pleasant smile back.  "I'm afraid I do not," she said warmly.  "Isn't she zat lovely girl 'oo 'as been in a coma for ze last two years?  I believe she may 'ave worked for ze ministry, but I do not know 'er personally.  I 'ave only just been elected."

            Harry had the strangest feeling she was lying.  He decided to change the subject.  "Well, Minister, I am being lent to you by Britain, so to speak.  I am at your disposal."

            She nodded.  "You can report to me as often as you need, but you 'ave, essentially, free reign.  Monsieur Malfoy 'as arranged it."

            Harry grudgingly thanked his superior in his mind for playing politics so that he didn't have to.  "I will bring what I find to you.  Perhaps I will be lucky again."

            "You seem to be always lucky," she said.  "Zat is why I asked for you."

            Harry felt flattered, and slightly off about keeping information from her.  Still, Malfoy, evil prat or not, was a good politician.  He always had a reason.  "I thank you for your faith, Minister.  I hope it will not be unjustified."

            "We 'ave every fais in your abilities, Meester Potter," she said.  "I 'ave arranged for sleeping quarters for you in ze 'Signet Gris'.  It is a small 'otel, but wizard run, and you will 'ave access to ze floo network, potions ingredients, and anysing else you may need.  My secretary will give you directions.  I am so sorry, but I 'ave a meeting.  I 'ope to see you soon."

            Harry thanked her.  "I will see you soon, Minister," he confirmed.  Leaving the office, he picked up directions to the inn from the wizard and headed back down the stairs to find his hotel and floo some possessions in from home.  One couldn't, after all, Apparate such a distance.

            Walking down the street, he had things to think about.  For example, what was Fleur Delacour doing in a coma?  He remembered her from years ago, and had brushed her on business a while back.  He had not heard of her being hospitalized, especially if her illness was so serious that none of the developments in wizarding medicine could cure her.  He should have.  Such illnesses were always big news.  He wondered what had happened that it was being suppressed.

            He found the hotel without a problem, and once he had checked in and gone back home for another set of Muggle clothes, a robe, and his invisibility cloak, he settled on his bed with the file open in his lap, and began poring through information on this mysterious woman he was to surveil.

            Her name was Gabrielle Delacour.  That shocked him enough that he looked over the sheet of personal information a few times.  In family relations, he found that her sister, Fleur, and her mother, Violette, were listed as alive.  Fleur was hospitalized, and Violette had vanished nearly the same time that had happened, and people had stopped seeing Gabrielle.

            After that, there was only supposition.  Someone who had escaped from the close-knit group of followers had babbled in fear for days.  The only thing that had come out very clearly before he had died of unknown causes was that the leader of the group was a small, willowy woman with angelic blonde curls and wide blue-green eyes.  The witness had died in his sleep one night, and there was no sign of magic about him except the terrified look on his face.  Avada Kedavra left no traces.  The description was all they had to go on.  Scouring the list of known witches, she was the only one that fit profile, unless someone was using Polyjuice Potion.  Even in that case, finding Gabrielle herself would lead to the criminal.

            The address that was listed as possibly hers was in a rich, exclusive Parisian neighborhood.  A woman calling herself Georgette Dubois was listed as living alone, and the neighbors mentioned that no one was ever seen going in or out.  That meant that she must have house-elves to do the shopping, and that everyone she wanted to see Apparated or flooed in.  She was on the floo network, but with a private connection.  No one she didn't want could get in.  That was a level of security even very rich wizards didn't bother with exclusively.  It smelled funny.

            Harry decided to pay her a visit in the morning.  Until then, he was tired, and staring at her laughing, childish pictures and trying to equate her with a villain wasn't helping.  Pointing his wand at the candle by his bed to extinguish it, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Slivery laughter and accented whispers whirled in his dreams.


	2. Coffee Breaks

~*All You Wanted*~

Chapter Two: Coffee Breaks

Dove: Yes, we are back with the silly titles and much inane humor. And coffee. Because "Draco Malfoy the Amazing Bouncing… Rat?" has corrupted us beyond all recognition. And we were already pretty corrupted. But not corrupt. That's for politicians.

Bena: Like Alex?

Dove: Like Tsau. Who we will see in excess in the next chapter. However, in _this chapter, we journey into Gabrielle's mind a bit, and Ginny discovers the betting pool. Run for your lives._

Bena: Betting pools are fun! I like betting pools! They're fun to swim in! Especially when they have penguins I think I've had too much coffee.

Dove: Maybe a little too much.

Disclaimer: If we were J.K. Rowling, Alex would be canonical.

_"If I can't take my coffee break, something inside me dies-yes lies down and something inside me dies!"_

Harry opened his eyes and squinted into the sun. It was shinning directly into his eyes from the window-it was early morning, early enough that the sun hadn't risen enough for him to open his eyes comfortably. Harry rolled over, put on his glasses, and wondered briefly what had woken him so early.

The answer stared at him from the fireplace, red hair a bit dusty from the ashes, eyes blazing.

Harry yawned. "Oh. G'morning, Ginny."

"Harry!" she yelled. "Hurry up and finish this assignment! Draco-excuse me, Minister Malfoy, for all I know he's listening right now-is convinced he can do whatever he wants to me!"

"Oh. In that case, who won?" Harry asked mid stretch.

"Who won what?"

"Never mind."

Ginny tossed her hair. "Well, in any case, I have never been so affronted before in my life! If I get asked one more time to practice 'pair flying', I'm going to explode!"

"Since when are you a teapot?"

_"This isn't funny!"_

Harry didn't agree, but said nothing. "All right, so why do I need to come back then?"

"Because," she wailed, "he won't stop trying to seduce me! At least while you were around, he tried to use some semblance of suave. I think he figured he had to outdo you. But now you're gone and he's like a bad cliché!"

"He wasn't before?

Ginny ignored him and continued railing. "You don't really need to do this, do you? I mean, will it really matter much if France gets destroyed? No one will miss it!"

"I will. Sirius will. All the French people will be most unhappy if they no longer have a nationality." Harry climbed out of bed. "Ginny, is there a real reason you called me up this early, or are you just unable to find Hermione to sympathize with you?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "As a matter of fact, I do. Malfoy says to tell you that our source in France has just contacted us. The address we gave you may be incorrect. Gabrielle Delacour may no longer reside there. She may still be using it, but lately our source says she's been seen spending the evenings at..." She frowned. "Oh, I can't pronounce it. Here." She handed Harry a slip of paper, and Harry took it from the fireplace. "Just an update, you know."

"Thanks, Ginny," Harry said. "You might try transfiguring him into a ferret and hiding him in his desk drawer after bouncing him all around the room."

"There's an idea," she said, grinning. "I might try that."

Harry nodded. "Good. Then I'll win the betting pool, and have the money for a decent flat."

"Betting pool?" Ginny's eyes narrowed. "_What betting pool?"_

Realizing he was on boggy ground, Harry tried to evade. "There's a betting pool?"

Now Ginny's eyes were slits. "Don't you lie to me, Harold James Potter."

Harry squirmed under the gaze. He thought it was unfair that every female seemed to be perfect at that icy, furious stare that made men tell them whatever they wanted to hear before they thought about it. He wondered if it was something mothers taught baby daughters while they were still in their cradles. "Well, there was this betting pool on when you... and Malfoy... would... you know..."

"Would what?" Her voice was the ominous roll of thunder.

Harry muttered something under his breath.

"What was that, Harry? Say it louder, please."

"Wouldsleeptogether," he finally managed, slurring the words. Judging by the murder he read in Ginny's eyes, she had understood. "I bet on 'never', just so you know," he justified himself quickly. "I think the whole idea is sort of sick, really, and I wasn't the one who-"

"You bet?"

"Er... Yes ma'am?"

"You are a dead man, Harry Potter." She pulled herself out of the fireplace, wand drawn. In his pajamas, Harry felt very vulnerable as he backed into a corner.

Just then, the fire flashed green again, and Draco, immaculate even at this early hour (damn him) rushed out and pinned Ginny's arms behind her. "Now darling, as much as he might deserve it, do restrain yourself from killing my best detective."

Ginny stiffened and flushed. "Let go of me, you barbarian."

"No, I don't think so." With that, he picked her up, carelessly said "My office" and threw her in the fire to her curses. "Well then, sorry about that," he said. "Tempers in redheads run high, you know."

"Won't those... er... obscenities get her lost?"

"They might," he shrugged. "She'll find her way eventually." He stepped half into the fire, and Harry thought that he obviously _had been eavesdropping. "Carry on with your work, and don't disappoint me by sleeping in." As it was a little after six, Harry felt this was unjustified. "Oh, and by the way, Potter," he grinned wolfishly, "just so you know, you're losing that bet."_

With that and a mutter as to destination, he vanished in a puff of green smoke.

All in all, it was quite a morning.

Harry sighed, and headed into the bathroom. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. Even after this long, he still looked scruffy and unkempt in the mornings, almost more so now that his hair had grown out a bit more. He glared at his reflection. "Idiot Malfoy. I bet he sleeps in a hyperbolic chamber."

It didn't take too long to get dressed and looking more presentable. Once out of his pajamas and a bit more neatly groomed, Harry felt much more like a human being, and less like a frog that Ginny wanted to turn into a tiny bomb. He sat down on the edge of his bed, and looked at the closed file. "Now, where should I start?"

The new address seemed as good a place as any-after all, he had no real information on the Delacour woman, and no idea of anyone else who might know something about her. Decision made, Harry tucked the file inside his coat, and headed out the door.

Paris was just waking up in the sleepy, primarily wizarding part of town that held "Le Cignet Gris". He got on the subway at first opportunity with early morning commuters, and spent quite a long time bouncing around in the packed car. He still preferred this method to floo, however, so he had no room to complain.

Getting out at a station on the outskirts, he boarded another train, this one bound to the houses of the privileged in the countryside surrounding Paris. He really thought this new location made much more sense than did the one in town. A place of darkness was bound to be noticed unless it was hidden away well.

Thus he was not surprised that once he stepped off the train, he had to walk what had to be several miles before he saw another settlement. He solved this problem by casting a speeding charm on his feet, causing him to walk at the speed of a run. Thus, it didn't take long before he reached a chateau cloaked in foliage, surrounded by quaint iron gates. There was a box, obviously spelled, on one side, which emitted a quick "Qu'est-ce que vous dezirés?" in a pleasant baritone.

"Mademoiselle Delacour," he said shortly, wondering if they would be stupid enough to let a Ministry wizard in unchecked or would, at least, gather some information. He was, after all, gathering impressions, trying to get a hand around this case since he had little to no concrete information.

To his vast surprise, after a few moments of silence, the gates opened soundlessly, and the little box invited him to enter. He did so, walking slowly on his now-uncharmed feet and taking in the lush, beautiful gardens. In early fall, they were colors of rust and gold, and looked unduly cheerful for the black stone chateau that loomed behind.

Harry stepped up the rounded steps to the main door. There was a heavy lion knocker, and he lifted it and gave it three sharp raps that reverberated throughout the house.

Then the door opened, and he forgot about the gardens, and everything else.

She leaned on the door frame, obviously for effect. She was small, he realized. Much shorter than he had thought she would be. Lush curves were encased in a slinky dress the dark red of fresh blood, which was cut very low and left little to the imagination. A waterfall of blonde hair, in loose waves ending with curls cascaded past her waist. Eyes the color of the ocean looked out from under black velvety lashes. They were heavily lined, making them appear mysterious, and the bright red lipstick shone in a way many women he knew had tried and failed to emulate. There was a small cat's smile on her face as she frankly looked him up and down.

Harry thought he might have forgotten to breathe for a minute.

"Well," she said, her voice a high, sensual whisper. It was deeply accented, and matched her appearance perfectly. "It appears zey 'ave sent me ze best. Won't you come in, Monsieur Potter? You are to question me, non?"

***

Ginny barged into the room furiously and slammed her hands onto the table in front of Parvati. "I'm sitting miserable practically playing secretary to that damnable Minister of Magic from Hell, and you all just sit here calmly playing salon?!?!"

Lavender looked up from braiding a few strands of her hair. "It's what secretaries do. Besides, Parvati isn't playing salon. She's taking a coffee break. They exist, you know."

"That sounded awkward, even to me," Parvati responded absently, flipping through her book. "Work on your delivery. Don't try so hard."

"Right." Lavender stored that bit away for later. "Got it."

Ginny flopped into a chair and groaned. "I don't get it. I'm an Auror working like a personal slave to His Mightiness and you, Parvati-you're actually supposed to be Alex's drudge, and you're here reading! What's he paying you for?"

"Testy, testy," she replied as Alex entered.

He lounged against the doorway, raising an eyebrow at the women. "What are we paying for now? Did the pool close?"

"That reminds me…" Ginny glared around at the others. "What's this I hear about a betting pool?"

"Oh, that." Lavender smiled and pulled out her wand, wafting a cup of tea over to Ginny. "Everyone in the Ministry's got an ongoing bet as to when Draco's going to finally get you to crumble."

Ginny took a sip and made a face. "What is this crap?"

"Green tea. Honestly, Virginia, get some taste."

"I'd rather not if it involves this. What do you mean, getting me to crumble?"

"How soon before you two start shacking up." Alex took the cup from Ginny. "I'm winning, by the way. Hey, if you don't want this, can I have it?"

Ginny's eyes blazed. _"What?"_

Parvati looked at Alex. "That's right… you are. It escapes me how someone as clueless about his own romantic life as you can possibly be so dead on about everyone else's."

"It's a gift." Alex shrugged. "Besides, I pick up on emotions. For example-"

"If you say Minister Liang is giving off vibes again, so help me I will slug you," Ginny growled.

"My, my," Lavender said, concerned. "Why so touchy?"

"Draco's bragging about how far he got last night," Parvati supplied.

"Last night?" Alex did some rapid calculations. "Oh wow, I won that part of the poll. At this rate I'll be rich."

"Nothing happened!" Ginny protested.

"Sure, sure." Lavender stood up. "Well, I've got to get to a meeting, since Hermione says she'll strangle me if I'm late again," she said, referring to her boss, the Muggle liason and the only person in the Ministry that Minister Malfoy seemed to respect. "Are we still on for dinner tonight?"

"Of course." Parvati waved as her friend left, then glanced at Ginny. "Did you get the stuff delivered to Harry?"

"Huh?" Ginny blinked. "Oh. Yes, I did. Alex is winning the betting pool? What exactly did he bet, hmm?"

Alex grinned. "I've got to get a birthday present for Tsau. It'll get me back on his good side for postponing the engagement."

He quickly exited. Ginny flung up her hands, screamed, and left. Parvati was left alone, staring at the doors. At last, she sighed. "This place should be a soap opera. Now, that's a score for Alex… where's that notebook?"

***

Harry stared at the young woman, still flabbergasted. She smiled at him again. "Speechless, non? Perhaps we should talk inside. Come into my parlor."

She turned and walked inside, every part of her moving fluidly and gracefully, as smooth as the hair that fluttered behind her. Harry finally got his wits about him and followed quickly.

The inside of the house was left mysteriously shadowed. All the windows he saw were severely covered with heavy velvet drapes that hid all the light from outside. Instead, the room was lit with candles, he noted. Old-fashioned candles, the ones that were allowed to drip wax for effect. His feet echoed loudly on the marble of the large entrance hall, then sunk silently into the thick carpet of the hallway as she lead him to what he supposed was her parlor.

Behind a heavy oak door was a small, round room. Candles formed a circle on the wall, set in iron sconces. They were all black. A swirling crystal ball stood on the small table between two dark velvet armchairs. A small fire burned in the grate, and Harry was taken back to Professor Trelawney's classroom with the heavy, exotic and provocative smell. Over it all, he detected an overtone of something bright, cheery, and floral, but it didn't seem to suit at all.

"Nice place," he remarked.

She slunk down into a chair. "Why sank you. Do sit down, Monsieur Potter."

Harry sat. "You knew I was coming," he stated.

"Mais oui. Ze 'ouse-elves, zey told me. I 'ave ze entry spelled."

"Why did you let me in?" he asked. "You haven't been seen in the real world for years, and then you calmly open your door to a foreign stranger?"

She smiled coyly. "But you are no stranger, Monsieur. You saved my life once before, did you not? It is a debt. I consider it paid if I cooperate wis you."

Harry shook his head to clear it-why wouldn't the fumes just go away?-and asked, "Oh, so you will tell me what you've been doing here?"

"Why, living a peaceful, quiet life, away from ze 'ectic world."

"I thought you said you would cooperate," he sighed.

"Ah, and I am. I 'ave let you into my 'ome, and offered you a place to sit. I am razer… lonely, you know."

There was a clear invitation in her eyes. Harry ignored it. Despite the fact that this was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, something was very wrong here. "I'm sure you'd have plenty of company if you ventured out once in a while."

"I 'ave sensitive skin," she said calmly, raising her milk-white hand to gesture. "I burn easily."

He would have laughed at the absurdity of it all, but couldn't manage more than a small smile. "Oh, so that explains your hermit ways. What about your sister?"

Startled at the quick change in direction, Gabrielle's eyes fluttered with a ray of panic. "My sister is sick, is she not? I 'aven't 'eard to ze contrary. She doesn't matter anyway." This last she said firmly, as though she was defending herself.

"I see. And your mother?"

"I 'ave no mozer. Violette Charlotte Delacour is no more," she said.

"Do you know what happened to her?"

"Non," she said simply.

"So, you have no family?" he prodded, wanting a drink of water desperately.

"None," she confirmed. "Zey would not matter even if I did. I go my own way."

"So… you are just an innocent young woman with a taste for the arcane in decorating living on her own with no worries."

She smiled and shrugged lightly. "Zis is 'ow it looks, non?"

He smirked. "I never settle for how it looks, mademoiselle."

Her smile was slow and warmed him uncomfortably from his head down to his toes. "Zen zis shall be fun. Let us see 'oo wins in ze end."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Awfully confident, aren't you?"

"Quite," she replied calmly, crossing her legs, "So, you wish to question me, non?"

"I believe we have already ascertained that."

"Zen per'aps you should begin ze process, zen. Sitting and staring at me is 'ardly ze way most investigators being zeir interrogations, I believe."

Harry somehow managed to keep from blushing, and pretended he hadn't been doing just that. "Indeed? I believe that the investigator determines the course these investigations take."

"If we continue in zis vein for too much longer, you'll nevair leave." Gabrielle flashed a sultry grin. "I fear for my safety."

Harry fought against warring emotions to walk up and slap her, and stammering out a denial of her insinuations. "Very well, then. You have, of course, heard of the new rash of Dark activity in the Paris area, I assume?"

"Naturally. Very distressing, all of it. I assume zat's why you're 'ere."

"Are you aware of the exact nature these activities?"

"I 'ave 'eard rumors, yes. Muggle terrorism, illegal potions sales 'ave gone up, experimentations regarding spells of immortality, several disappearances of prolific public personages…"

"Lots of 'p's' there," Harry commented absently.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. Office habit." Harry made a mental note to seriously harm Alex and Parvati for getting him into the habit of commenting on everything he heard, regardless of significance. _Damn you both. If I end up looking like a total idiot in front of this woman, I swear…_

"Continue, please," he prompted.

Gabrielle raised an eyebrow, and went on. "As I was saying, disappearances of several well known wizards, strange absences of French Ministry wizards 'oo claim to remember nosing of where zey were, a few deasz of young Muggles and a good population of animals, and not just strays, and an increased traffic in migration into ze country of people 'oo were once involved wis ze Dark Arts 'oo zen promptly seem to disappear once inside Paris."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You seem to know an awful lot about these activities, especially given that they are supposed to be confidential and only released to the public under headings of being careful at night for younger wizards. Since you already know so much, you must be aware of the fact that you are a prime suspect in this case."

The young woman smiled innocently. "Am I?"

"Yes." Harry crossed his arms. "And, frankly, given the depth of your knowledge regarding this subject, you have convinced me that those suspicions are very well founded."

Gabrielle's smile grew. "But you cannot prove anysing, can you?"

Harry frowned, wishing she wasn't emanating such a seductive vibe. It was interfering with his ability to think… not that he much minded, which was almost worse. He decided it would be best to end this before he was completely humiliated. He stood, and bowed slightly to Gabrielle. "Thank you for your time, Mademoiselle. If you have no problems, I would like to speak with you again on this subject at a later date, when I have more information."

Gabrielle nodded, pulling herself up with infinite grace. "Certainly, Monsieur Potter. I will look forward to it. My doors are always open."

Harry nodded his thanks, and quickly left before things could deteriorate even more.

Gabrielle stared after him for several minutes until she was certain he was gone. Then she turned, and her demeanor changed immediately from sultry seductress to quiet young woman. "Well?" she asked quietly. "What did you sink?"

A shadowy figure faded into the room. One of the candles flickered. The strong, sensual smell rose as did the flames of the fire. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. With a small sigh, Gabrielle closed her eyes and leaned back against him, letting her head fall back, simply it was because that was what was expected of her. He landed a soft, cool kiss on her neck. "Not bad, ma chere. Not bad at all."

She had to remember to stay calm, though one small fist was clenched in the red slinky material of her dress. She didn't say anything because he hadn't asked for comment and she had long learned not to give what wasn't asked.

"You wore your own perfume again," he said, his hand in the middle of running through her loose curls. He tugged quite hard on one of them, hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. She didn't say anything, and he chuckled. "You need to stop doing that. It doesn't at all suit your image."

"I… forgot," she said softly, eyes still closed. "Please forgive me."

"Hmmm," he said. His voice was low, a rumble in his chest, deceptively calm. "Maybe. Don't do it again."

Gabrielle allowed herself the smallest of sighs. As it was she had had to bribe one of the house-elves to go to the market and purchase it. She would have to hide it. For a better day, she firmly believed. A day she would no longer have to be… what she was forced into being now. "I won't," she said, as was expected of her. "Of course I won't."

"Good. You know it could interfere with the powder." The fire flashed an unhealthy color of red. "You'll need to feed it again soon."

Gabrielle sighed. "Oui," she said. "I would 'ave done it before, but it gives me ze 'eadache."

He brushed her cheek with his fingers. "Miss Parkinson is nearly finished working out the antidote. I'm sorry that you'll have to put up with the headaches for just a little longer, precious."

"Merci," she said simply into the dark, luxurious carpet.

"But of course. I live to take care of you, lovely one." His arms were loose around her waist, resting coolly across her stomach. She felt his long, elegant fingers through the thin fabric and reminded herself not to shiver. There was enough she had to give him because she had no choice. This, at least, was as close to her as he got. As long as she was cool and impassive, he would grow bored with her. He had to grow bored with her.

She fought back tears, wondering how she had been stupid enough to end up here. She had learned along with her other lessons, that tears, just like perfume made from sweetpeas and tulips, were not part of this new image either. She only cried when she was commanded. Like a puppy, she thought, with an inward sigh. A puppy doing tricks for her master. The tricks that kept her, and everything she held dear alive.

"Oui," she murmured. "You do."

He smiled faintly, just visible from the corners of her eyes as he moved behind her, arms encircling here loosely, not threatening, but insinuating… hinting… warning…

"About the Potter fellow," he said quietly. "Do you think you can keep him from learning anything useful?"

She tried not to tense under his hands. "I will do what I can. 'Owever, remember zat so far, all of 'is information 'as come from 'is Ministry. I cannot block information stemming from ze source."

"Indeed." There was a pause. "They seem to be very well informed. We only moved you a few days ago, and yet they already know you are staying here. Do you know if they know about your last residence?"

"I sink zey do not. Monsieur Potter gave no indication zat 'e thought it might still be in use." Gabrielle lowered her eyes a bit more. "I sink we are still safe in zat respect."

"Very good." The hands around her waist slipped away, leaving cold handprints in her skin in their wake. "Then continue with what you are doing. If we keep him from learning anything that his Ministry can't discover for him, all the better. I can make certain that things on that end do not progress too much. You continue watching Potter. Make sure he learns nothing more that we do not want him to."

Gabrielle didn't look up. She could only hear his steps across the room as he left. Her heartbeat began to slow as relief that he was leaving descended.

The footsteps stopped. After a moment, he spoke, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "After all, we wouldn't want him to get hurt. You understand how terrible that would be on his friends and family."

He left, but Gabrielle was no longer relaxed. She shook, hands clinging to the couch as she tried to not slide to the ground in fear and despair.

But she kept the tears at bay. For that much, she was grateful to him.

***

Harry had a distinctive feeling he was missing something as he walked through the lush gardens. Before he knew what he was about, he was outside the closed gates. He looked through the wrought iron bars, sighed, and, muttering the spell to speed his walking, began his trek across the countryside towards the nearest train station.

He found he enjoyed the walk in the sunshine. The smell of the grass drying in the sunlight was the last remaining tang of summer in the air. He found that a wisp of the heavy, sensual perfume from Gabrielle's house was clinging to his skin and clothes, though the clean smell of the early autumn air and the small, playful breeze were doing their best to dispel it. He thought he would have to perhaps be rid of this clothing. He had a feeling the fragrance would follow him wherever he went unless he did. He didn't want to think about Gabrielle Delacour at all.

He thought about her anyway, of course. As he got up onto the train platform and sat on a bench to wait for the next train, which wouldn't arrive for ten minutes, he tried to organize his thoughts.

Beautiful. Oh yes, very beautiful. She was, in fact, the kind of woman most men would die for. But there was something about her that didn't fit. Maybe that fact that, despite her prefect provocative beauty, the hooded eyes were innocent. Maybe it was the flash of raw, primal fear when he had brought up her comatose sister. Or maybe it was the thin, cheerful smell of summer flowers that wound around her despite the strong, overbearing scent which suited her and her house quite well. Or maybe it was the spectacular gardens, looking carefully tended with loving human hands-gardens developed rather a feeling if one left magic to do the work, and that feeling was decidedly missing here. Something, he thought. Something.

If only he could figure out what it was.

***

"You did _what?"_

_ "I suggested that perhaps politics via floo wasn't the most effective way to work through diplomatic relations, and that perhaps we should discuss the terms over dinner sometime."_

"And what did he say, exactly?"

"He thought it was a fabulous idea."

Parvati crossed her arms. "And?"

"And what?"

"You're not telling me everything. He thought it was a good idea, and…?"

"And he'd heard I had an older sister and perhaps I should invite her, too, so that Li had someone to talk to while we went over the fine print."

Parvati sank into her chair. "Alex, when are you going to acknowledge that you are _making up this entire relationship?"_

"When you acknowledge that I am not making it up."

"One of these days I'll just put in a request to steal your job. You know they'll let me-at least I won't cause major diplomatic incidents!"

Alex made a face, and tossed his hair. "But you don't have any of this to offer. It's quite convenient. You may have the body, but I've got the looks, and these are a lot more effective on both sexes and you know it."

Parvati looked as if she were preparing to lunge forward and severely harm him when Lavender peeked in. "Parvati? Minister Malfoy needs to see you right away. He says it's urgent that you come to his office right away, and to bring a notebook or something like that."

Parvati dropped her hands, and turned to leave. "Thank God!"

"Parvati!" Alex yelled. "Get back in here, you are my secretary and you need to clear my schedule for this dinner!"

"Set up your own date for a change!" she yelled back, before closing the door and following Lavender down the halls to Draco's office.

Only halfway there, she heard the yelling. "Am I to be scorekeeper then?" she asked Lavender with a wince.

"Care for some earplugs?" Lavender asked placidly. "I'm just the friendly neighborhood coffee girl."

"You're _supposed to be Hermione's secretary," Parvati said crossly as the volume of the yelling increased. Outside the doors, they heard a loud crash. "Damn it, I'll bet that vase was expensive."_

"Mrs. Weasley is far too organized to need a secretary," Lavender pointed out. "Besides, I'm good at making coffee."

Parvati laughed. "Put it in an unbreakable cup, then."

Lavender opened the door and shooed her in. "Ginny broke them all already."

Parvati, with a sigh, closed the doors behind her back and ducked a tossed bagel and an "oh, it's just Parvati." She sighed, pulled out her notebook and flipped to the appropriate page. Doodling a cheerful little face absently in the corner, she tried not to listen as Ginny and Draco fought, again.

"Damn it, Draco, you touch me _one more time, and I swear I'll-"_

"You can jump on me and do things that would make Parvati blush later," Draco said, trying to sound reasonable.

"Nothing much conventional makes me blush," Parvati muttered, checking yet again under Draco's name.

He grinned wolfishly. "That's the idea."

Ginny hissed out her frustration. "Why the hell is she here anyway?"

"To make sure you don't kill me?" Draco suggested, deftly disarming her of her cup of coffee and downing it.

"To report to the betting pool," Parvati said vacantly, adding a silly hat with a feather to the funny face. "Or else they argue and nothing ever gets done. Kind of like in this office."

"Things do too get done in this office," Ginny shouted.

"Juvenile as that is, she has a point. I asked her to arrange a press conference for me."

"Then I attacked you," Ginny said.

Parvati cocked an eyebrow and checked under Draco's name again. "You walked right into that one, Virginia."

"Damn it," Ginny seethed.

"One has to wonder why you put up with her, Minister," Parvati said sweetly.

Ginny turned on her. "I thought you were on _my side! Damned Gryffindor excuse for loyalty."_

"We're not Hufflepuffs," Parvati pointed out. "Besides, I'm not exactly against you. I'm just on the winning side."

Draco flashed her a grin. "You might need a raise."

"And a transfer?" Parvati asked hopefully.

"Afraid not," Draco replied. Snagging a blushing Ginny around the waist he pulled him to her despite her squawk of protest. "But perhaps a raise."

Ginny tensed and tried to control her heightening color. It didn't seem to be working as the damned man was getting to her. "Let me go," she squirmed. "Come on, Draco, Parvati's here."

Draco's mouth hovered an inch from her ear. "Oh, and if she wasn't?" he whispered. "Is this progress, my dear? Goodness, better start the press conferences to confirm the relationship."

Ginny was having a hard time breathing, but finally managed to say, "There are a few inherent problems with our relationship."

Draco chuckled. "Oh? Such as?"

"Such as, it doesn't exist." With that, she got loose of him and flounced out.

Parvati raised a brow and looked at the rather put out Minister of Magic. "I'm afraid she got that one." Making one last check in her notebook, she smiled angelically. "May I go back to work preventing international disaster now?"

"Damn it."


	3. International Relations

~*All You Wanted*~

Chapter Three: International Relations

Dove: There shall be no A/N from Bena in this chapter, due to the fact that the poor darling is very sick!  I wish I could bring her chicken soup, but… well, there you have it.  We did have a merry old time working on this chapter.  I think you'll find Alex is hilarious.  And our multi-linguality is spreading.  Thanks to Thalia who gave us the one Chinese phrase… the Russian came from me as does the French, if there is ever Spanish, you can expect Bena inserted it.  And we won't go into Japanese.  Yet. *lol*

Disclaimer: If we owned them, Dove would already have coerced (or blackmailed, whichever works) Draco into marrying her.

_"They pretend to tell us the truth, and we pretend to believe them."_

Two weeks later, Parvati tapped her fingers on the desk, stared at Alex's schedule, and sighed. She stared at the day in question, eyes fixated on the red sprawling handwriting of the diplomat she was stuck working for, and the little bitty stars and dots and what looked like hastily erased hearts around the words, "Dinner with Tsau, 9:30 pm," and a restaurant name written out in long convoluted Chinese words that roughly translated to something along the lines of, "Fabulous Duck Palace of Water." She had a feeling he might have messed up on the grammar again.

            _He's how__ old now, and still acts like a fifteen year old student. A fifteen year old school girl, to be precise. How did I get stuck working for him again? Oh, right…the fact that Harry's already the best Auror here and Alex won't listen to anyone else._

_            The thought of Harry triggered an idea, and Parvati sat up. This was treading dangerous ground, especially considering what had happened between Alex and Ambassador Flores from Mexico, Minister Kingsley from Canada, and that African Quidditch player in the last six years-but if she could get Harry involved somehow…_

            Parvati hurried down to one of the rooms used for floo communications, and threw open the door. The young employee inside looked at her, startled. Parvati pointed at the door. "Out. Now. International emergency. I'm commandeering this room."

            The young man looked at her again, and scurried out. Parvati closed the door and hoped that Harry was in his room.

            A familiar bespectacled face appeared in the fire. "Parvati?"

            "Harry, I need your help."

            He blinked at her. "What happened this time? Did Ginny finally kill Draco?"

            "Actually, no. I have a feeling she might be weakening. But this is much, much worse."

            "Ew. Do I want to know?"

            Parvati nodded. "It will directly involve you, I hope."

            "What is it?" Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I'm pretty busy here already."

            "Alex has a meeting with Minister Liang tonight."

            "So?"

            "For dinner."

            "Uh oh."

            "In China."

            "Oh bloody hell!" Harry sat down, and looked at the ceiling. "So how does this involve me?"

            "I think it might be helpful if you were involved. After all, he sometimes listens to you. When he listens to anyone."

            "Why not just get Fred to come along? He listens to Fred."

            Parvati raised an eyebrow. "Two flaws with that. One, he only listens to Fred when Angelina isn't glaring at him, and two, _Alex is having __dinner with __Minister Liang.__ I don't think that Fred would exactly suit the purposes."_

            "Okay, you're right." Harry sighed. "I don't think I can make it, though. I was planning on going to talk with Gabrielle Delacour again tonight. She only seems to be around on Tuesdays and Sundays, and the rest of the time I can't ever seem to find her."

            Parvati slammed her fists onto the edge of the hearth. "Then bring your damn date along with you! This is serious!"

            Harry blinked, and a slow smile spread across his face. "Maybe I will, Parvati."

            Parvati glared at the expression on his face. "You don't need to look so pleased. She eats guys like you for breakfast, you know."

            "Who is Yuu? Should I know him?"

            Parvati tilted her head. "Actually, the Japanese Minister has a son named… no, no, I won't say it. Alex has been following me lately, probably to make sure I don't do what I am right now."

            "International emergency, right?"

            "How'd you guess?"

            "I read it in the stars."

            Parvati groaned. "Ha, ha. Look, I should get going before Alex comes looking for me and hears me mention another delicious available young _male important political figure and sets his sights on him, or he finds out I've dragged you into this. Do me a favor, though?"_

            "Sure thing."

            "Keep that woman on a leash." 

            "I don't think I could if I tried," Harry sighed.

            Parvati finally grinned. "Thanks, Harry. And don't forget-bad girls are always much more-"

            "Shut it, you good girl you."  With that, Harry closed the connection.

            Parvati made a face at the now-blank fire and walked out of the room, well satisfied with her progress.  She knew there were a few innate problems in inviting the woman who was probably the biggest threat to the wizarding world to have dinner with the Minister of Magic-_two Ministers of Magic, in fact-but at the very least it would give Draco and Ginny another reason to argue… not that they needed it, but an extra one couldn't hurt.  Just in case there was a lull in conversation._

            She stopped by the Muggle Relations division and waved to Lavender who, horror of all horrors, seemed to be working for once, writing down something furiously by means of a broken peacock quill while the heavily pregnant Hermione stalked around the room, dictating.  It looked as though there had been some sort of problem with George, a trick wand, a giant orange rabbit, and a magic show in Las Vegas.  Parvati had only a moment to marvel at the Weasley ingenuity before the livid Hermione shouted, "Parvati, in here!  Now!"

            "Figures that idiot would have to do it in a foreign country," Parvati sighed and pulled out a quill.  "I warn you, Alex won't be good for much until tomorrow.  Maybe not until next week, depending on whether we start a war tonight or not."

            Hermione glared.  Obviously her sense of humor was not awake yet.  "Then you can send someone else," she said.

            "Who?" Parvati asked innocently.  "Everyone's on vacation, except Alicia Spinnet.  Would you really like me to send her?  You know every time she gets mad at him he locks her in a room with him overnight and the next day she agrees to whatever he has to say."

            Hermione glared helplessly.  "Damn the Weasley hormones," she hissed.

            Parvati meaningfully looked at Hermione's bulging stomach.  "You don't seem to mind.  Isn't this the third result of Weasley hormones?"

            "Ron _doesn't count," Hermione said._

            "Why on earth not?" Lavender enquired.

            "Because _he has the brains and __decency not to work in this madhouse!"  Off Hermione stormed again as Lavender pulled out a notebook and marked something down._

            "Does everyone have those damn things now?" Hermione asked.

            "Parvati started a fad," Lavender said calmly.  "Sit down before you hurt yourself.  You remember what happened last time.  St. Mungo's still hasn't forgiven you."

            "George doesn't work here either," Parvati muttered.

            "Yeah, because no one would be crazy enough to hire him," Lavender whispered and giggled.

            "Alex might.  On account of it scaring Fred."

            Someone, namely Hermione, cleared her throat above them.  "If you two are done _gossiping, perhaps you will be so kind as to get to work?  Damn it, Lavender, where's my coffee?"_

            "Coming right up, ma'am," Lavender sighed, and scurried away.

***

            Harry stood outside Gabrielle's door, and took another deep breath. "Okay. This time."

            He raised a hand to knock, stopped, and let it drop to his side. "Better make sure I'm really thinking straight first."

            "Brilliant idea, Monsieur Potter, given zat ze last few interviews we 'ave 'ad ended razer quickly," Gabrielle called out to him. "'Owever, if you don't mind, it is getting razer chilly in 'ere keeping the window open to watch you debate entry, so if you would be so kind as to come in? It 'as been nearly twenty minutes."

            Harry started, blushed, and quickly composed himself. "Thank you for the invitation. I believe I will accept."

            Gabrielle flashed one of those smiles that seemed to so effectively disarm him, and closed the window. Harry hurried in after her.

            Once inside the parlor, the two sat opposite each other with the fire crackling merrily in the background. Harry finally found his voice. "Well, I came not so much for an interview as to ask a single question. Since you don't ever seem to be around often enough for us to have an effective interview, I thought perhaps a different setting would give you the incentive to clear your schedule enough to allow me to question you."

            Gabrielle titled her head. "Oh, so zat's why you can't seem to formulate questions whenevair I see you?"

            Harry ignored the question. "I've been called to help supervise a diplomatic incident in China tonight. Perhaps you would be willing to join me and we could discuss this more in depth?"

            Gabrielle feigned meekness. "Why Monsieur, are you asking me out?"

            He frowned. "No, I'm not. It was suggested by my coworker that I bring you. She also suggested that I put you on a leash."

            "I do not sink you could if you wanted to, Monsieur."

            Harry grinned, remembering he had said close to the same thing.  "Perhaps if I tried very, very hard," he said with a shrug.  "Now, I can't order you to go with me, of course, but I do think a day out might be good for your nerves.  It's not sunny in Beijing today.  You won't burn, I promise."

            Gabrielle allowed herself a smile-not a laugh, she wasn't allowed to laugh-and sighed.  "Mmm, per'aps.  Allow me to go freshen myself.  'Elp yourself to ze tea."  She gestured towards the obsidian tea service on the little table.  "I will return shortly."  With that, she slipped out of the room with the crackling red fire and turned the corner before she nearly ran into the other inhabitant of the house.

            "You're going to go have dinner in China tonight," he informed her.  "Get him to ask you along."

              She did her best not to appear overly shocked.  "En… Chine?" she asked.  "But… I 'ave not left ze grounds for…"

            "Three years, yes, I know," he said impatiently.  "But you're going to tonight.  Don't worry, I'll be there as well."

            She smiled a little.  "As you wish, of course," she told him.  He drew her into his arms, tilted her chin up, and kissed her absently.  "Make me proud, cherie."

            She sighed.  "Mais oui."  With that, he released her and prodded her towards the door.  She walked back in and ran her hand over Harry's hair.  "I believe I can make it, after all."

            Harry looked up at her.  "Similarly, I believe we've agreed that you're not to touch me."

            She shrugged, allowing the midnight blue silk she was wearing that day to shimmer, but moved across the table and poured herself a cup of tea.  "I'm sorry.  Do you find me zat repulsive?"

            "Perhaps I am only wary of you," Harry said, crossing his legs.  "So, we leave at four," he said.  "I suspect that you, being a woman, need the time to get ready?"

            She stood and looked at him challengingly.  "Am I an embarrassment to you like zis?"

            His head was aching as it always did in her household, and he couldn't stop himself saying, "No, you're lovely, but I'm afraid Liang Li-Li will be rather put out if you outshine her."

            Despite herself, Gabrielle giggled girlishly.  Then, looking shocked and rather afraid, her hand flew to her mouth.  "I… will be waiting for you.  If you will excuse me.  I will show you out now."

***

            "Are you sure this is the place?" Cho Chang-Davies, assistant to the Minister of Magic, shaded her eyes. "I thought you said it was called Magnificent Duck Lake or something."

            "That's what Alex said." Parvati held out the slip of paper. "Here's the real name."

            Cho looked at it, blinked, and laughed. "Oh, I just hope his grasp of the spoken language is better. This is the right place, though. I'll let Minister Liang know. You get in contact with your group."

            "I'm not a novice, Cho."

            The older woman smiled sweetly, and walked into one of the booths along the side of the restaurant. Parvati headed into another one, wondering all the while what the actual name of the resteraunt was.

            Not five minutes later, Minister Liang and his younger sister, who was never seen outside of his company, sat at the table in the small room reserved for private dinners. Draco and Ginny were seated across from them, Draco looking very businesslike for once and Ginny doing her best not to look ready to melt into the floor. Parvati and Cho headed over to their table to sit, observe, and be ready to provide information that would cancel out any possible arguments over the treaties and policies being discussed. Cho leaned over to Parvati. "Where's Alex?"

            "Probably making sure every red hair is perfectly in place."

            "As long as he doesn't go back to green bangs, I think we're safe."

            As if on cue, Alex entered, carrying a satchel filled with the necessary papers and diplomatic materials. Parvati had to grudgingly admit that the man did know how to do his job.

            Now if only he could pull it off without falling head-first for the other parties.

            "Are we all here?" he asked. "Good. Minister Malfoy, Miss Weasley," he continued, inclining his head. Both of them nodded their acknowledgement. Alex turned to the Chinese contingent. "Good evening, Miss Li, Tsau. I hope you haven't had to take too much time out of your schedules for this."

            Cho looked at Parvati, and both of them mouthed, "Tsau?"

            _He could've come off as actually wanting to do his job. Except he said that._

_            "I believe," Alex continued smoothly, "that we have two others who will be joining us after negotiations, However, as they are not necessary to these proceedings, shall we begin?"_

            Ginny stifled a yawn. _This is why I was an Auror, she thought. __All this boring legal mumbo jumbo is putting me to sleep already. Wow, Alex is actually doing halfway well, if you excuse the subtle familiarities and the huge cow eyes. I wonder why he always goes after Asians and redheads? Good thing I'm a girl and if Draco doesn't take his hand off my leg I'm going to scream!_

_            Meanwhile, the man in question was busy proving why he had ended up as Minister of Magic. "We can't offer that, Minister Liang. Our resources are strained a bit thin since Voldemort's fall. We only recently stopped using all our resources to search out the last of his supporters. While we would love to offer the assistance you have so graciously requested, it is simply impossible at this moment."_

            "Perhaps," Alex said, "we could work out an arrangement where we can spare some assistance to work with other forces you may have already deployed?"

            How he was pulling this off, he had no idea. Every second, Alex was more and more certain his heart was about to explode out of his chest, it was beating so fast. His head didn't feel connected to the business aspect of this dinner at all. It was a pure miracle of training that he was making sense while having no connection to the scene whatsoever.  Parvati, watching him from under her lashes and meekly taking notes as befitted a good secretary, sighed.

            Across the table, Cho was speaking soft, rapid Chinese to Li, who had yet to develop any knowledge of the English language.  The young woman, her long hair pulled up in an elaborate bun and clad in red silk embroidered robes, was eagerly asking questions, when she wasn't shooting glances at Alex from across the table too.  Alex seemed not to notice, so concerned was he with showing the finer points of the papers he had had drafted.  Minister Liang was looking very serious as he and Draco studied them.  After all, as the Minister for all of Southeast Asia, Liang Tsau-Liu was wearing his resources thin as he attempted to put the wizarding population of Vietnam at ease after the fiasco with the kidnappings, as well as establish separate wizarding schools in the two Koreas, as the students in the one school, which was standing precisely on the border, were coming perilously near killing each other in duels.  For Vietnam, he needed special forces to comb the jungles and root out the last of the Dark wizards.  Unfortunately, the Chinese forces, the only ones which were worth anything, were stretched rather thin keeping the peace in the Phillipines where a sort of wizarding civil war had broken out.  For Korea, he simply needed money.  Japan, separate from the rest of the bulk of Southeast Asia for generations and with its own Ministry had other worries, and the Clow Reed Academy of Magic in China was badly overcrowded.

            In the end, this all amounted to the fact that they had come to Britain for their help and Draco, remembering China's lending them forces during the final years of the battle with Voldemort, couldn't simply refuse.

            "I think we can help you build the school," Draco was musing.  "I'ts finding the teachers that will be the problem…"  he winced as Virgina, smiling seraphically, kicked him under the table.  "But as for Vietnam, I just don't know how much we could do.  We're all rather involved with the business in France.  There's quite a large problem there, you know…"

            Just then, this "problem" walked through the door on Harry Potter's arm.

            Gabrielle had outdone herself.  She wore thin, clinging silk robes of a shimmering black and her long hair was allowed to hang down her bare back.  Her eyes were smokily lined as always and her lips as red, and black opals sparkled at her ears and throat.  The members of the Department of Mysteries which were serving as an honor guard, lead by the omni-present Blaise Zabini, opened the doors to them, as they were expected, and Gabrielle offered a brilliant smile to one of the guards, who was then left swaying and barely able to stay on his feet.

            As they entered, there was a charmed silence.  Every male's head turned and fixed unwaveringly on her-this number included even Alex.  Parvati seemed to be staring abjectly too.  The two of them sat down at the end of the table.  No one spoke.

            Li saw Alex's eyes fixated on the woman-only for a moment, true, and jumped out of her seat, leaving Cho nothing to do but follow after her as she barged down the room and blurted something out in rapid Chinese.  "Gau su wo ni de mi mi!"

            "Pardon?" Gabrielle asked, as Harry moved out her chair and bowed to Li.

            Cho smothered a laugh.  "She says, 'teach me your secret.'"

            Parvati, still peering at Gabrielle from the corner of her eye, overheard and somehow managed not to laugh.

            Alex coughed, eyes changing rapidly from impressed and entranced to filled with barely smothered jealousy. "Tsau, Li, this is one of our top Aurors, Harry Potter. I was not under the impression that he was bringing anyone along…" He stood, and knelt over Gabrielle's hand. "Your name, Miss?"

            "Gabrielle Delacour," she answered courteously. "You must be Ambassador Alexander Whitman. 'Arry 'as mentioned you quite often."

            "And rarely fondly, I'm sure," Ginny hissed under her breath. Draco nudged her impatiently before looking back at the young beauty latched onto Harry's arm-a move which only served to make her grind her teeth loud enough for Minister Liang to look at her curiously.

            After Alex sat again, Tsau cleared his throat. "Well, now that everyone is here, perhaps we should order," he said quietly, in barely accented English. "Miss Chang-Davies, if you would?"

            Cho stood, and exited, returning only a moment later with a waitress. She began conversing with the Minister in rapid Chinese, and soon he had translated everyone's orders. Alex's businesslike guise completely fell for just a moment. "That's so impressive. I wish I were more fluent in Chinese. It's such a lovely language."

            "Thank you."

            "It would be so nice to be able to talk to you in Chinese, Tsau. It's even more beautiful when you speak it."

            Parvati stood, walked over quickly before the Southeast Asian Minister could do more than look a bit startled, and handed Alex a stack of papers. "Ambassador, perhaps we should see if there are any other countries which may be able to assist in this situation?"

            Alex started. "What? Oh, yes. Excellent idea, Miss Patil." He smiled at her, eyes clearly stating that she would be subjected to various tortures the moment they got back to the Ministry. "Now, I believe Spain is indebted to us after assisting them in their campaign against the Inqusition centuries ago-I'm certain they might be able to spare a few forces to assist you if we ask, the Spanish don't enjoy owing people for so long. Would you like it if I asked them, Tsau? I'd do anything to help you-"

            Parvati's shoe connected with his ankle, and he winced. "-with this. We understand how difficult it can be rounding up supporters of the Dark Arts."

            His look at Parvati now promised death by rabid squirrels with weed whackers, or something equally unpleasant and bizarre. She smiled sweetly, and headed back to her seat.

            "The Spanish?" Tsau asked, clearly unsure.  "Well, I suppose we could ask them, but then, their economy is really rather unstable at the moment.  We wouldn't want to put them into a similar situation."

            Alex looked thoughtful.  "True enough.  I wonder, if we went to the States…"

            Draco shook his head.  "No, no, America won't do at all.  They'd demand we make it a loan and add interest.  They're businessmen."

            "In other words, they're leeches," Ginny said softly from next to him.

            Draco shrugged.  "It amounts to the same thing.  They're still sore at us about that little misunderstanding with Canada."  He looked pointedly at Alex who kept a perfectly blank face.  "Right, then.  America won't do.  Spain is in jeopardy as it is.  That only leaves-"

            "Ask Russia," a French-accented voice from the other side of the table spoke up softly.  Everyone swiveled their heads to regard Gabrielle, who was calmly patting her mouth with her napkin, her chopsticks propped neatly up on her plate.  "After all, zey 'ave been on your backs for years about opening a new school… ze Akademiya Volshyebstva and even ze Shkola Imenyi Vasyelisi 'as been accepting your students for years… zey would consider it a wise investment.  Besides," she grinned, "zey still 'ave zat debt to England to pay for saving ze Tzarina in… oh… ze eighteen-'undreds?  Zey would 'elp.  And Russia 'as been wonderfully stable for ze past five years or so."  The silence was thunderous.  Gabrielle shrugged.  "Of course, I'm not involved.  It was just a suggestion."  She lowered her gaze demurely and said nothing more.

            "Right, then," Alex said, a smile slowly growing on his face.  "I can't believe I didn't think of Minister Nikolayeva right away!"

            "I can," Parvati muttered.  "She's female."

            "I'll get in touch and see what we can do," Draco promised.  "But I think that's one problem solved.  Now, as for the armed forces, perhaps…"

            Harry was staring at Gabrielle, who looked perfectly at ease.  "I didn't know you were politically savvy," he finally said.

            She smiled in a mysterious fashion.  "Ah, well, I keep up."

            "But you never leave your house," he persisted.

            "I order newspapers in several languages," she said.  "After all, zere isn't much to do alone, day in and day out."  Realizing she was sounding weak, she quickly attempted a remedy.  "You come by so rarely to divert me!"

            Harry was not taken in by the bait.  "Why don't you leave more often?"

            "I 'ave no need of ze outer world," she said, sounding as though this was a repeated daily mantra.  "My own is sufficient."  She took another bite of her orange-glazed chicken.

            "I wonder what secrets you're hiding," Harry mused under his breath.  "I'm never quite sure of you."

            She placed her hand lightly on his, and he didn't think to remind her she had promised not to.  "Per'aps, Monsieur, zis is because I want you to be."

            Ginny stared at Harry and his guest for a moment, then sighed and tried not to seem too eager to look back at Draco. While Alex went over a few of the terms to present to Russia with Minister Liang, she mouthed carefully at him, _Why__ did he come? And with her?_

Draco shrugged. _No idea. I'd guess Parvati's responsible. She usually is._

His eyes narrowed, and his next words were kept strictly to himself. His position as Minister of Magic was sound enough, but too many people remembered who Lucius Malfoy had been during Voldemort's days, and more still remembered the amnesty towards Harry that had been so infamous during school. No matter the context, such a thought could have easily unseated him if anyone heard it-but no one did.

Bringing a suspect to dinner... I'll kill you for this, Potter. If anything happens because of her, I swear I will...

Ginny nudged Draco pointedly, and he turned back, years of training keeping an embarrassed flush from crossing his pale face at being caught off-guard. Alex was drumming his fingers on the table impatiently (_and most certainly not just due to my lateness, Draco thought, hiding a wry grin), and Minister Liang was holding out several papers. "Minister Malfoy, can you think of anything else that we could add? Between the terms of this treaty and ours, I think everything in Vietnam should be fine, but should Russia negotiate their way out of this-"_

"They won't!" Alex reassured him. "I'll make sure of it. It's my job."

Parvati leaned over to Cho. "And he does it well, when he's not flirting."

Both women giggled, and turned back to the discussion. Draco looked over the contracts. "It looks as if you've come up with a very sound plan regarding this situation. I have nothing else to add. However, if there is need for more assistance, I would ask you to entrust that to Alex..."

He trailed off, noticing the half-smile lingering on the ambassador's face as he watched Minister Liang. Tsau was too busy listening to Draco to notice.

Draco resumed quickly. "...in matters of personal negotiations with other prospective allies. I will deal personally with you, Minister Liang. England is willing to do as much as we can to assist you."

Alex shot a glare at him that promised he'd join Parvati hanging from his hair from a rafter very very high off the ground while piranhas ate their shoes. Everyone ignored it.

Just as the last of the paperwork was going through, the food began to arrive.  As the dishes were set out by silently efficient serving staff, the conversation turned to lighter matters.  Seeing that the higher-ups were well-occupied in discussing the finer points of the Russia proposition and finding that what Cho translated was not very interesting, Li turned to her other side and began to speak with Gabrielle.  Cho immediately moved to the other side of the table and greeted Harry before re-commencing her job.

After introductions between the two women were through, Li asked with a friendly smile what it was that Gabrielle did.  The other woman shrugged.  "I stay at 'ome," she said simply.  "Zere is not much for me to do."

Cho translated the answer.  Li looked surprised and rattled off something else.  "But doesn't it become tedious?"

Gabrielle smiled almost sadly.  "Not really.  I 'ave… visitors sometimes 'oo entertain me… mostly I am content by myself."

"But where does the money come from?"  Cho looked apologetic as she translated.

"I am well off.  My fazer left my seester and me a fortune.  'E was in ze rare animal business… we 'ad a phoenix in ze 'ouse when I was young.  Once zere was a unicorn… it would not go near my sister and my parents grounded 'er for weeks and weeks."  She was sounding nostalgic now.  "Zen, 'e was tricked by a competitor and strangled by a Lesifold.  Zat was right before I began Beauxbatons and Fleur began work at ze Ministry of Magic."  There was poignant pain in her eyes before she quelled it.  "But zat is not important," she added, sounding as though she wished she believed it.  "My past is boring, really.  I prefer ze present."  

"I see.  Where is your sister now?  What about your mother?"

Gabrielle looked decidedly uncomfortable.  "My mozer is… gone," she finally said.  Harry, shocked that she was talking about her family _willingly, wished dearly he could take notes.  "My seester is in St. Jean's, and 'as been for sree years."_

"I see.  It is too bad."

Gabrielle looked unsettled.  "It doesn't matter," she said in that same half-convincing tone.  "I don't care."

Li looked shocked.  "But… she is family."

"I 'ave no family," Gabrielle said almost fiercely.  There was a look of intense pain in her eyes before she dutifully took herself to eating delicately with the chopsticks which, no one was surprised to see, she looked as though she had been doing for years.

"Who pays the hospital bills?" Cho said, looking tortured by her role as intermediary.

Gabrielle now looked on the edge of panic.  "I… don't know."

"I'm sorry, Harry, she's used to getting all of her questions answered," Cho said.  "I wish I didn't have to-"

"No, Cho, you're doing a lovely job," Harry murmured.  "Do go on."

Gabrielle looked at him venomously-the first sign he had had since he had met her that she did, indeed, harbor emotions other than the seductive sensuality she seemed to exude at every other moment.  He was coming closer and closer to the realization that this was entirely fabricated.

"But don't you love her?  Whatever she did that was so horrible?  It is blood calling to blood, isn't it?  Family.  My brother might _murder someone, and I would still love him."_

"Love?" Gabrielle said as if tasting the word for the first time.  "Zis love, I do not understand it.  It is a fairytale for ze gullible.  I like sings.  I enjoy sings."  She smiled icily, and Harry realized she had clammed up again.  "Like men.  Or fine wine.  One is no more enjoyable zan ze ozer.  But love?  I do not know it.  I 'ave not seen it.  Why would I believe it?"

Cho translated.  Li looked shell-shocked.  Finally, she composed herself enough to ask yet another question.  "But why?"

"If somesing is not evidenced in one's life, one naturally ceases to believe," Gabrielle said simply.

Harry looked at her.  He could swear tears were shimmering in those downcast eyes the color of a winter sky.  He wanted to reach out to her, but sensed it was wrong, somehow, and kept quiet.  Instead, he wondered how the two Chinese women had gotten her to open up.  He had known of Georges Jaques Delacour, but had never heard him described in such a way.  He had never had insight on the Delacour family before it had so suddenly ceased to be.  And now, with this glimpse, he was more curious than ever as to what Li would unearth next.

But the rest of Li's conversation was polite, cheerful and flighty, about the fine silk of Gabrielle's dress robes and her lovely hair.  Still, as the three women chatted, Harry catalogued something in his mind.  It was far past time to search for Violette Charlotte Delacour.  And then, well, then he would go see an old adversary.  There was something about Fleur that unsettled Gabrielle.  He had to discover what it was.


	4. Tulips and Sweetpeas

~*All You Wanted*~

Chapter Four: Tulips and Sweetpeas

Dove:  In this chapter… we get dark, up the nightmare quotient, and shatter any illusions you may have had of Gabrielle's innocence.  The end is muchly cult-like, for which you may thank my butchering of a Catholic Mass to create… well.  Also, someone we all know and love well dies.  Please no flames.   It's plot development.  And then Harry… well, finally gives in, I guess… though that'd be a lot happier if we didn't know what we know about Gaby at that point… I'm rambling.  Read the chapter.

Bena: Yes! Yes! Read it! Read it and worship my ability to write humor mixed with subtle foreshadowing! Be amazed at Dove's ability to create creepiness! Wander eerie hospital hallways! Meet the mysterious man of the hour! Pretend to speak Latin and Spanish! And wrap it all up with a ritual murder!.... wow, this chapter's a carnival ride... or at least my excessive happiness is making it so... YUKI-CHAN!!!!! *Runs off to stalk her friend some more*

Dove: And French!  There's _always French!_

Disclaimer: J.K. Doesn't generally kill those who are well-loved, excluding Lily and James.  Therefore, we must not be her.

_"It's frustrating when you know all the answers, but nobody bothers to ask you the questions."_

Harry frowned, staring into the fireplace in thought. The flames continued to refuse to answer any of his questions, although he'd have settled for just one.

_What is it about Gabrielle's family that makes her so nervous?_

The fire flickered, reflecting his own uncertainty. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that he had been closer to seeing the real Gabrielle Delacour that night when Li had questioned her, and yet he still didn't know why.

_Her sister.... she's the key. What is it about her sister that has her so scared?_

"Am I interrupting?

Harry's first thought was that the fire had spoken to him. His second thought was that he was hearing voices. His first idea turned out to be closer-someone was peering at him from the fireplace, a questioning look on his face.

"Oh. Mr. Zabini." Harry pushed his glasses up his nose. "Sorry. I didn't notice you. I was thinking."

"No problem at all." Blaise gave him a vaguely hurt look. "You know, we've worked together longer than a lot of the people at the Ministry, and yet you still won't drop the formality. Why?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You commandeered an international floo room just to question the nature of our relationship?"

"No, it was just an interesting byproduct. I'm supposed to fill you in on what leads we've gotten in your case, seeing as Virginia Weasley is currently tied to a chair screaming at the top of her lungs."

Harry groaned. "You think she'd be resigned to working as all but Draco's personal secretary by now, and wouldn't need to be tied up to do it."

"Actually, she seemed to be quite enjoying it last I checked."

Harry stared at Blaise for a moment, then shook his head. "I'll pretend I didn't understand what you meant by that."

"Suit yourself. I'm just going by hearsay, anyway. Do you want the news or not?"

Harry nodded. "Any new leads? Miss Delacour isn't exactly lending herself to questioning."

Blaise frowned. "Really? She was our best bet. Well, then... there was a note to check out a flower shop on the Rue du Canard on the river."

"A flower shop? Why?"

Blaise's shoulders briefly showed as he shrugged. "It doesn't say, only that someone who matches the description for Miss Delacour frequents there often, and to maybe question the owner about the disappearances. Perhaps he might have overheard her saying something?"

Harry frowned. It sounded so far-fetched...but he had observed enough to point to Gabrielle's love of flowers, and they had so little to go on... "Is that all?"

"For now, yes." Blaise peered at him expectantly. "How's the investigation going so far, by the way?"

"Slow," Harry answered shortly. "I've got almost nothing."

"Really?" Blaise looked away for a moment. "Oh, someone's calling me. I should go back to work. You going to check out the flower shop?"

Harry mentally sighed. "I'll have to. It's one of the only things we've got right now."

"Right then. Good luck, Harry."

"Thanks."

The fire was once again silent, flames dancing almost mockingly. Harry made a face at it, stood, and headed out the door to the flower shop.

Paris was still unseasonably warm, though the sky wasn't quite as clear as it had been, signaling a storm coming before the end of the week.  People wandered the boulevards, though, in the typical French fashion, they looked askance at the man in the long black coat and did not speak, sensing somehow that he was not one of them.  This suited Harry just fine, for his head was in the clouds in any case, and he was spinning questions in his mind rather as he would spin memories in a pensieve, hoping they would somehow make sense the next time around.

He nearly passed by the flower shop, for, while obviously prosperous, it was also small, the sign understated, as though the patronage was expected to simply _know where to find it, and new customers weren't at all welcome or, indeed, needed.  A small bell tinkled demurely as he swung open the door and the strong aroma of roses and… something else, rather akin to the "something else" he smelled in Gabrielle's mansion, immediately accosted his sense of smell._

Behind the small, white counter, a thin man with an immaculate apron over his carefully pressed suit stood, picking through a bouquet of hothouse flowers fastidiously with small, gloved hands.  He looked up when Harry entered, and his eyes flashed with recognition, and then panic for just a moment before he put on an impersonal, polite expression, and asked "Can I 'elp you?" in faintly accented English.

Harry decided he would really have to do something about this "looking foreign" problem.

"Hello, Monsieur," he said as personably as he could.  "You can, as a matter of fact, do a great deal for me."  He smiled, striding closer and delicately fingering an opening rosebud in a vase near the counter.  "Why don't you tell me about Mademoiselle Gabrielle Delacour?"

The man's face stayed completely impassive, though his eyes began to look shifty.  "I know no one by the name, Monsieur."

Harry passed by the roses and studied a display of lilies before fixing a piercing, inquisitive gaze on the man.  He had cause to know that this particular gaze, when employed on the proper individual, nearly always yielded results.  "Oh, come now, Monsieur.  Let me help you a bit.  Several times a month, a young lady, lovely enough to take your breath away comes into the shop, although I expect she wears a cloak with a deep cowl, and you are perhaps not being difficult, because you likely have never fully seen her face.  Her voice is soft, natively southern, conceivably from the area of Marseilles.  She's short, soft-spoken, and has even possibly never given you her name, although you, of course, have found it out by other means.  She buys only the most expensive and pays exclusively in cash, and she comes in alone, although there are likely people accompanying her who wait outside while she makes her purchases."  Harry cocked a brow.  "Well?  Did I help your memory, Monsieur?"

The man looked quite jittery now.  "I… don't want any problems, Monsieur."

Harry grinned.  It worked every time.  "If you do not, then you will certainly tell me exactly what I need to know, and I will leave your establishment in peace.  Well?"

The man fidgeted.  "She was last here four days ago," he finally said, looking down into the suddenly fascinating cash drawer.  "She came in alone, wearing an 'eavy black cloak.  I 'ave grown accustomed to ze fact zat she is never seen wisout it, and did not question 'er, despite ze fact that the weather was exceptional.  She bought Italian roses and Turkish gardenias, which is quite customary for 'er.  She stayed per'aps ten minutes in all."  He smiled absently.  "I believe she may 'ave smiled at me."

Harry sighed.  "Right."  He picked up what was labeled as a gardenia and sniffed.  Seductive.  Strong, nearly overpowering.  The sort of scent he should associate with Gabrielle, except he just couldn't.  "She comes often?"

"Yes, Monsieur," the flower seller said softly.  "But I always sought… per'aps she was being pursued?  She is quiet, and polite, almost… frightened.  She seems a very… euh… what is ze word… 'armless?"

Harry held back a bitter little chuckle.  "Harmless.  Of course.  But Mademoiselle Delacour is not quite as harmless as she appears… tell me, are you aware of the recent disappearance of Camille Genout?"

The man sighed.  "Ah, zat nice young lawyer?"

Harry, knowing very well that Camille Genout's double career as an advocate of both Muggle and wizarding law had made her quite famous in both worlds, smiled.  "Yes, I recall she recently had a very large case come up regarding… smuggling, was it?"

"It was all over ze papers," the shopkeeper nodded.  "But now she is gone-"

"And so is the evidence.  As well as the smugglers themselves."  Harry twirled the gardenia between his fingers.  "A bit strange how no one is looking for her, isn't it?"

The shopkeeper swallowed.  "Well, ze government is pursuing leads, but…"

"But," Harry agreed.  "It doesn't seem to me they're trying very hard."  He smiled icily.  "Maurice Rinaldi?  Alastair du Lac?  Phillippe Carsairs?"  He continued to name names of the vanished, carefully picking the ones that a Muggle would know upon hearing as well.  "You've heard of them, I'm sure."

"All gone, yes, I know," the man said slightly irritably.  "Are you trying to insinuate zat zat sweet girl is responsible?"

Harry did laugh then.  "She is many things, Monsieur, but I'm afraid 'sweet' is not one of them."  A sleek black cat hopped soundlessly onto the countertop and regarded him with eyes the color of amber.  Harry scratched it behind the ears.  "Abyssinian?"

"Purebred," the man said proudly.

"She's lovely," Harry said.  "Better be careful, Monsieur.  Black cats seem to be scarce in Paris these days."  He placed a bouquet of sweet peas on the counter.  "Wrap this up for me, please, Monsieur.  Add a few tulips.  White, I think."

The man sighed.  "You English 'ave very odd taste.  Tulips and sweet peas?  What an odd combination."  He wrapped it up nonetheless.

Harry smiled slightly as he brought the bouquet to his nose and sniffed in the elusive fragrance which had so baffled him at Gabrielle's house.  "Refreshing," he disagreed absently.  "Keep an eye on Fifi, Monsieur.  Here's a phone number if you remember that you've left something out."  Tossing a card with the inn's number and a few bills for the bouquet on the counter, he took his flowers and left, realizing he would get nothing else from him.

***

            On the sunny outskirts of Paris, well-aware that Harry Potter had come to regard Mondays as a day the Delacour household wasn't receiving, Gabrielle sat blissfully alone in her garden.  The sleeves of an old, worn men's shirt were rolled up to her elbows, she wore Muggle jeans, and her luxurious hair was pulled severely back into a tight braid.  Her face was free of make-up, and a large, floppy straw hat to keep her skin from tanning adorned her head.

            All in all, Gabrielle Delacour looked nothing like her usual self although she was, quite obviously, in her element.

            She hummed an old chanson as she weeded the flower bed in front of her, her face relaxed into a young, almost innocent expression.  She carefully smoothed the ground around the bed of late roses, sat back on her heels, and sighed, a small tear escaping and falling to the ground as she looked out through the wrought iron fence which held her as surely as a cage.

            Suddenly, a house-elf popped up next to her.  "Mademoiselle, Monsieur Potter est là," the little thing said.

            Gabrielle looked up in surprise, then shook her head and angrily wiped the trace of the single tear from her cheek.  "Ce n'est pas important.  Je ne peux pas le voir aujourd'hui," she replied.

            The house-elf nodded and popped out of sight.

            Ten minutes later, when she was sure he had gone, Gabrielle went to the front gate.  Into the curlicues of the gate had been stuck a bouquet wrapped in pale gold paper.  She carefully extracted it, then held it close and breathed in the fragrance of her perfume.  Only then did she begin to cry.

***

            Harry wandered the halls of St. Jean's that afternoon, feeling his skin creeping farther up his spine as he did so. _No wonder if Gabrielle never visits her sister... this place is eerie._

The main part of the hospital had been friendly enough. Small children played in the sick playroom, people smiled as he passed by, and there was a warm light everywhere from where the many windows let in the sun from outside. However, as he got closer to the intensive care wing where Fleur Delacour resided, the smiles grew less, the laughter faded, and the light grew colder and fainter until he was walking down corridors as cold and silent as the terminally ill they housed.

Harry suppressed another shiver. _All's silent in the halls of the dead._

_No... not all. Because these people aren't dead. And that's even worse._

The only sounds to be heard were the faint beeps of the life support systems in the rooms, and the clicking of shoes, his and others, on the tiled floors. Silent as those noises were, they were almost oppressively loud in the otherwise dead air. The light was all artificial here, the bulbs yellowed to try and mimic sunshine, but succeeding only in giving the corridors a look of supreme sickliness, as bad as hose who rested here. The air was too cold from the controlled temperatures, and too still, as if no one had moved here in a very long time. _All's silent in the halls of the dead, and all's dead in the halls of the living._

Harry had never wanted to get out of a place more desperately in his entire life.

St. Jean's was a good hospital-that wasn't the issue. It was simply the fact that this one area, where so many witches and wizards still resided from the days of Voldemort, had such an air of mortality about it. It was as if simply by walking down the halls, your life was being sucked out of you-because those who rested here needed every little spark of life just to take a single respirator assisted breath.

Fleur's room was the third to the last in this hall. Harry opened the door, wincing at the still, heavy, oppressive air within, even worse here than in the hall, and stepped inside.

His eyes widened. "Sirius?"

Sirius Black looked back at him, eyes hollowed, looking as transparent as the pale woman whose bed he sat beside. He didn't even look a bit startled.

"Hello, Harry. Why are you here?"

Harry did his very best not to goggle.  "Sirius?" he repeated.

"Yes, that's right," Sirius said with a weary sigh.  "That was my name the last time I checked."

"What are you doing here of all places?" Harry asked.

"I asked first," Sirius said with a ghostly shadow of a smile.

Harry sat down in the other chair-hard and uncomfortable-and continued to stare at Sirius, not sure what to make of him.  "Investigative purposes," he finally said.  "And you?"

"Visiting an old friend," Sirius said, glancing down at Fleur's face.

Harry shook his head.  "Of all the… I didn't know you knew her.  Family friend?"

Sirius gave a hollow little laugh.  "Something of the sort.  I've spent some time with the family, certainly.  I hear you took Gabrielle Delacour out to dinner."

It was Harry's turn to laugh hollowly.  "For all the good that did me," he said.

Sirius shook his head and smoothed Fleur's hair with an air of one accustomed to doing it often.  "Yes, she was a difficult sort of child, last I saw her."

"Difficult," Harry repeated dully.  "Yes, I suppose she is that, anyway.  I heard her called 'sweet' today, though... and that, she most certainly is not."

Sirius looked surprised.  "Really?  Last time I saw her… oh… three years ago, I suppose… she was nigh near angelic.  Has she really changed that much?"

Harry felt inexplicably sad for some reason.  He looked down at Fleur, lovely as her sister, lying cold and still and nearly lifeless, her skin the color of paper and her hands lying laxly at her sides.  He remembered how Fleur, the one time he had known her all those years ago, had loved Gabrielle more than anything in the world.  And how Gabrielle claimed to be completely indifferent to her.  "Yes," he said.  "Yes, Sirius, she has."

Sirius looked pained.  "Harry, this family…"  He sighed.  "Fleur… and Gabrielle too… They're just-"

"Oh, please don't talk to me about Gabrielle Delacour," Harry said wearily, somehow wanting nothing less than to involve Sirius in this whole mess.  "I have enough contrasting sources talking to me about Gabrielle Delacour."

Sirius' eyebrows shot up.  "I recall you having a rule about never dating a suspect.  So I suppose I can assume-"

"Yes, well, I'm not dating her," Harry said seriously.

"Oh God," Sirius said.  "What did she do?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," Harry said flatly.  "I sincerely hope nothing."

"By your eyes," Sirius said slowly, "I can ascertain that all the talk about not dating her is a load of dung, Harry.  What the hell are you playing at?"

"I'm not dating her," Harry replied just as flatly as before.

"But you're attached, aren't you?"

"I'm… intrigued," Harry said, finally picking up the right word.

"It's remarkably difficult to stay simply 'intrigued' with a Delacour woman, Harry," Sirius said.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get to work."  He leaned over and brushed a light kiss on Fleur's cheek.

"How often are you here, Sirius?" Harry said.

"As often as I can be," Sirius said.  "See you, Harry."  With that, he left, leaving Harry to wonder what the hell he had obviously missed.

***

"Coffee, anyone?" Lavender set down the tray of mugs, and grabbed hers before settling into a chair. "We've got decaf, mocha, a couple espressos...."

The rush to the tray at that was akin to a herd of rampaging teenage girls at a pop concert who'd just learned that the lead singer had lost his clothes. Lavender somehow managed to make herself heard over the din. "I said a couple! You can't all have one!"

Grumbling, everyone flopped back into their chairs, except for the triumphant Alex and Ginny, who all but floated to their spots, holding the espressos above their heads like trophies. "What happened to the friendly neighborhood coffee girl?" Parvati growled.

"She discovered she didn't like waiting for forty espressos and got smart." Lavender smiled and winked. "Besides, she's more outgoing this way."

Parvati made a face back at her, eyes sparkling. "Shut up and drink your coffee."

Ron stared at the group in confusion. "Is Hermione the only one here that ever works?"

Ginny sighed. "I'd work, if that bastard Minister wouldn't keep me locked up as his personal slave..."

"I _am working," Lavender protested. "You heard Parvati. I'm Your Friendly Neighborhood Coffee Girl."_

"I thought you were supposed to be my wife's secretary."

"It amounts to the same thing in the long run."

"Besides," Parvati interjected, "I'm supposed to be Alex's secretary, and now I'm head of Anti-War Defense."

Alex made a face. "Ha, ha. I've got the espresso, so bugger off."

"How'd he get to be Ambassador again?" Lavender wondered.

Ron shrugged. "Well, he always managed to get out of trouble at school."

"Hey!" The coffee was working. Ginny stared at Ron hard. "What are you doing here? Don't you have practice?"

"Visiting Hermione." Ron raised an eyebrow. "In case you forgot, she's pregnant. I thought I'd come make her feel better. Oh!" He turned to Parvati. "And Fred and George might be stopping by later, too. George wants to harass Percy about the inquiry about the Vegas thing, and he and Fred were going to drag Alicia and Angelina out to lunch."

"Angelina's not here today," Alex said. "She never showed up."

Ron blinked. "That's not like her to miss work. Wonder where she is?"

Lavender giggled. "Flirting with foreign ministers?"

"That's Alicia," Ginny corrected.

"And Alex," Parvati added.

An empty espresso cup flew at her head.

Ron reclined, and glanced at the other occupants of the room. It was mostly secretaries on break, a few others from assorted departments just trying to wake up and a young man with dark features sitting next to Alex. Other than that, there were no other Ambassadors or departments heads of any sort to be seen. Ron gestured to the strange man. "Who's he?"

"Alejandro," Alex said at the same time Parvati answered, "One of the Spanish ambassadors."

"He's both," Lavender supplied.

"Wasn't he the one that-" Ginny began.

"No!" Alex protested.

"Yes," Parvati groaned.

Alejandro looked confused, and turned to Alex. "¿Cómo te dijeron ellos?"

"Nada, Alejandro, nada." Alex glared. "Let's drop it."

Right about then, the decision was taken out of their hands. Draco stormed in. "Angelina Weasley!"

"She didn't come in," everyone chorused together.

Draco looked at them, and hectic fever patches appeared on his cheeks. "What?"

Parvati and Lavender studied their coffee studiously while Ron glared at Draco covertly and the two Ambassadors pretended they weren't there. Ginny sighed. "Fine, I'll do it. She didn't come in today, Minister Malfoy. We don't know where she is. She might have just had some trouble getting here and gone home."

Draco's voice rose to thunderous volume. "I've got Potter fooling around in flower shops and hospitals instead of tracking our suspect, no one can get him in line, and my head Auror didn't come in today?"

"That's what I said," Ginny answered calmly, sitting again. "I could talk to him."

"No one can find him." Draco glared at the whole room. "That's the problem. I've got Zabini and Carrington keeping tabs on him, and he's just strolling around Paris, taking his sweet time about it, and so he's never where anyone can get to him!"

"Coffee?" Lavender offered sweetly.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Do you ever work?"

"Alejandro, es el tiempo que tú sales a España. Ahora."

 Alejandro nodded. "Sí. Vamos."

They shot out of the room before Draco could say another word. Parvati followed sedately. "I'll get a room open!" she called to them.

Draco shot another glare at everyone, and stormed out. "If you see Angelina, get her into my office now!"

The door slammed, and Ron sighed. "Same old Malfoy."

Lavender nodded. "So, who wants more espresso?"

***

            Angelina awoke alone, in the dark, with a terrible headache.  Impulse and habit had her attempting to reach for Fred on the other side of the bed.  In short order, she realized she couldn't move.  Only then did she begin to panic.

            The darkness wasn't that of her own bedroom.  She knew this instinctually, for the air hung heavy with the smell of incense, and she had ever hated the stuff.  Her head was pounding, and she was finding it very difficult to think.  She tried her very best to reconstruct the circumstances that had brought her here.

            She had been doing research to send Harry's way.  Violette Delacour… the mysteriously missing mother seemed to be the link in Harry's mind, and she had never known his instincts to prove him wrong.  She winces as her head pounded, but made herself think.  What had she discovered?

            Sealed records.  There was no knowing what they were hiding for sure, but she was rather fond of the idea that it was a name change.  Violette Delacour had vanished without a trace.  She had not died-the death of a witch or wizard was expounded nowadays, especially one as young and promising as Violette Delacour.  She had been a doctor, brilliant and talented, and there had been talk of her taking up politics.  A beautiful woman, one who lived in the public eye with her picture-perfect children, did not simply vanish without a trace.  And so Angelina had searched, and when she found nothing but the files, she had begun hypothesizing.  Violette Delacour would stay in the public eye, she was sure.  The woman seemed born for it.  All they had to do was find someone who more or less fit the requirements and bring her in for questioning.

Angelina had come up with five possible women, all blonde, blue-eyed, beautiful, and figures in the public eye.  Some of the options had been… surprising, to say the least, but she had continued digging, looking for the histories of researchers, authors and even the Minister of Magic.

As she thought, Angelina furiously worked at her bindings, but she was obviously being held by magic, and her wand was far from her reach.

What had happened?  She had worked late into the night, and the door of her office had opened… she hadn't been worried, the Ministry building was well-warded… coffee.  He had brought her coffee.  She had smiled and accepted his kind gesture because, well, who wouldn't trust…

But no… no, it _couldn't be him!  He was probably the most trusted… despite his being in the category Harry jokingly called "Redeemed Slytherin"… who wouldn't trust him, indeed?  Angelina had trusted her life to him before.  It __couldn't be him, not with his impeccable manners, perfect breeding, and biting sense of humor…_

He walked in the door, holding a candle and looking nonplussed.  "Awake, Angelina?  Oh, good."

"You…" she said, trying to gather her thoughts.  Her head still hurt like hell.

"Yes, bit of a shock, I know," he said comfortably, setting down the candle.  Angelina looked around by its scant light, seeing only blank walls.  A small room in a manor of some sort… could be anywhere.  "I drugged the coffee, incidentally.  Are you feeling quite yourself again?"

Angelina glared as best she could with her thoughts swimming.  "You sick _bastard!  They all trust you!  I trusted you!  What the hell-"_

"Just doing my job, Mrs. Weasley," he quipped.  "Your research had been destroyed.  You're in Paris, incidentally.  In a nice, quiet house belonging to a Georgette Dubois which Harry Potter believes isn't in use…"

Angelina felt a sickening sort of dread settle in her stomach.  Like the top-notch Auror she was, she put it away.  "You're going to kill me," she said calmly.  "As a message?" she hazarded a guess.  "Well, the serpent's right among them; I suppose you're really quite clever."

"Indeed, I am," he said.  "Incidentally, I'm not going to kill you."  He smiled almost sweetly, and she saw a gleam in his eyes which wasn't quite sane.  "No, that's not my job."

"What in the world are you trying to pull here-"

He pointed a wand at her and lazily drawled "Silencio."  He looked her over and sighed, shaking his head.  "You don't speak my name here, Angelina.  I'm naught but a shadow."  And indeed, he melted into the shadows as two others entered the room, picked her up from the couch on which she was lying, immobilized, and carried her out of the room.

There were hallways, and stairs, but in the end, they came to a large, open room with thick black curtains over the windows, which was lit by black candles.  Angelina was set down carefully on a table near the front, and the two drones went to the back where a tall fire burned, unhealthily red.

She had only a moment to wonder before the room began filling up.  One by one people entered, heads downcast, all wearing black cloaks with hoods.  It was frightening how it reminded her of the Death Eater gatherings of old.  For a while, the room was noisy.  Suddenly, a hushed silence fell upon the group, and they all lifted their heads, folded their hands and removed their hoods, looking raptly to a point behind Angelina.  She craned her head to see a young woman, ethereally beautiful, in black robes.  Her hair cascaded down her back and her lips, almost smiling, were the color of fresh blood, slick and shiny.  Different from the girl in the photographs, but she was exactly as Harry had described her.  She said nothing at first, only came to stand directly above Angelina and to look out upon the sea of faces.

Oh, Lord, there were so many.

Then, she opened her mouth and spoke in melodious French.  As she greeted her followers, Angelina noted the piercingly blue eyes held the vacant look of someone in shock or under complete mental control.  The people were unmoving, listening in adoring silence.

So many.  So many of them… there had never been so many Death Eaters in the Inner Circle…

Gabrielle Delacour looked dispassionately down at Angelina and ran a cool hand over her forehead.  Then she spoke again, this time in mellifluous Latin.  "Oremus."  The room became darker as the light of the candles flickered, and the crowd bowed their head as one.  The smell of incense was getting stronger by the moment.

Angelina did her best to translate in her swimming head.  _"Sed libera nos a lux."__  But from all light, deliver us.  Angelina, for the first time in years, tired to pray._

There was a feeling of magic building, of power.  Angelina felt her strength being sapped as Gabrielle's voice grew stronger.

"…Non sum dignus."

The crowd muttered with her.  "Non sum dignus. "

_I am not worthy._

"…Sanguis sacrificium nostri…"

Angelina wished she could understand, but her Latin was nothing if not rusty.  Something about blood, something about sacrifice.

"…sacrificium nostri…"

_Our sacrifice._

Gabrielle's arms were in the air, her eyes closed, but still she spoke.  "Suscipe hanc oblationem quam tibi offerimus… sacrificium de manibus meas…"

"Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum."

Fire burned around Gabrielle now, and a long, carved knife appeared in her hand.  "…in saecula saeculorum…"

_And world without end…_

There was a flash of grief, pain, and resistance in Gabrielle's eyes as the knife fell.

***

            Gabrielle sat the next day, eyes downcast, fingers never quite still, picking at her immaculate robes, running over the arms of the chair she sat in, smoothing back her hair, or clasping, white.  That was how Harry found her, let in, for the first time, by a house-elf.  His thoughts were troubled-Angelina Weasley was still missing, and hadn't been seen by any of her family.  There was a search ongoing, and Fred was frantic, obviously blaming himself and some explosion he had caused for her disappearance.  The Ministry had more grim views.  None of them were released to the public.  The search continued.

            There was a strong magical residue around the house he hadn't bothered looking at first, but Gabrielle was obviously here and not there…

            She didn't look quite like herself.  She was immaculate as usual but the light usually present in her eyes wasn't there and the cat's smile didn't grace her perfectly painted mouth.  She looked almost jittery as she looked up at him and tried to seem relaxed.  "'Ello, 'Arry."

            "Hello, Gabrielle," he said.  He had done a lot of thinking, lying awake at night, playing Sirius' words back in his mind.  There was chemistry, certainly.  And now that he saw her in this state, looking weak and vulnerable, his heart went out to her.

She couldn't-simply couldn't-be guilty of anything.

"Are you all right?" he asked, coming up to her and tilting her chin up.  "You look worried."

"Fine," she said shortly, her voice not entirely stable.  "I am seemply… tired."

He nodded, but didn't believe.

"I… enjoyed dinner… Sunday," she finally said.  "Ze outside world is sometimes pleasant."

"I went and saw your sister," Harry said abruptly.

"I… don't care… about Fleur."  But despite all the training, despite screaming inwardly at herself, she couldn't stop two tears from meandering down her cheeks.

Harry, looking closely at her, wordlessly gathered her into his arms and felt her shudder.  He didn't know what was wrong, but she was clearly very upset, and he was… well, he was a great many things, a fool among them.

"You 'ave never let me touch you before," she said.

"Priorities change," Harry murmured, looking down and discovering that she had turned eyes sparkling with unshed tears up to him.  And even like this, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  Perhaps more so, now.

She saw it in his eyes.  "'Arry, you don't want to-"

"Yes I do," he cut her off.

Then he kissed her.


	5. A Series of Unfortunate Mistakes

~*All You Wanted*~

Chapter Five: A Series of Unfortunate Mistakes

Bena: Look, I get to start a chapter again! And how fitting it is too, that I should open probably the most eclectic chapter so far this fic. So... we learn that Sirius actually has a purpose, Harry gets to angst like a pretty boy with problems, the Ministry falls into chaos, and *gasp!* Alex turns out to actually have a job! *giggle* And I get to indulge my fetish for redheads, particularly two of them kissing each other... *falls into a fantasy realm*

Dove: And then, if that's not enough for you, we have more of the evil bastard (whoever he is), much almost-lemon-but-not-quite, chaos of an entirely different sort, why we say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, particularly if she's pregnant… oh, and then, for seasoning, Sirius/Fleur type hints up the wazoo, as well as more reminders that yes, damn it, Sirius _would_ be the right person to question right about now.  Oh, and more characters thrown at you… and everyone's a suspect.

Bena: Even ME?

Disclaimer: Harry Potter owns us.

_"Some mistakes are too much fun to make only once."_

The Ministry of Magic was in a state of total chaos.

Parvati stared over the rim of her coffee mug at the people rushing about, shouting orders, answering questions, and generally being as loud and panicked as they could and still maintain some semblance of order. She held out her mug to Lavender as her friend rushed past. "Refill?"

"Go get it yourself. Hermione's running a check to see if Angelina got wind of something before the rest of us." Lavender ran a hand through her hair nervously. "She thinks it's likely that she went out on assignment without telling anyone... it's just not like her..."

Hermione hurried over as fast as she could, her highly pregnant state considered, and grabbed Lavender's arm. "Lavender, I've got all the documents on open cases under Angelina's jurisdiction. Can you go through them while I finish checking incoming messages for her?"

"Sure, Mrs. Weasley."

"Thank you. Parvati, have you seen Alex anywhere? He said he was going to check the Ministries of the countries Angelina most recently worked with to see if maybe they have any idea."

"He's off making out with that Spaniard."

Lavender frowned, and Alex called from across the room, "I heard that!" before going back to conversing rapidly via Floo in Bulgarian.

Hermione tugged at her hair. "This is a crisis. I hope the Ambassadors are using discretion; we can't afford a leak that our head Auror is missing."

Alex cut off the connection and walked over to Hermione. His face was utterly grave. "We're impressing the urgency that the foreign Ministries keep this under wraps. Don't worry. Did you get that list for me?"

"Lav's got it. Let her go over it, first, and compare it with what I've already given her."

Alex nodded, and headed back over to the side of the room where all of his associates were babbling away in foreign tongues to various Ministries.

Draco strode in, flames practically shooting out of his ears. "We've been at this _all night and no one knows where she is yet? Dammit, I __need Angelina Weasley __this second!"_

Fred, who'd been called in for questioning, left off asking questions of one of the newer Aurors and shot over to Draco, eyes blazing. "You! You sent her off on some assignment that's going to get her killed, you used her, you.... you..."

Over on the other side of the room, Alex, who had been trying to straighten out some details with the Minister of Magic in Libya, turned. He gestured for the rather flustered and anxious Alejandro to leave, and hurried over to where Fred was tearing into Draco. "Fred..."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "You blame me? You're the one who can't control his woman. If I knew where she was, I sure as hell wouldn't be panicking trying to find her!"

"You sent her off somewhere, you snake! You were no good in school, you're no good now, and you've gone and gotten my wife killed, I know it!"

"Fred, calm down..."

Fred ignored Alex. "Tell me where she is! She never came home from work, and now she's missing, and I'm telling you to tell me where the bloody hell you've taken Angelina!"

Alex grabbed Fred's shoulder. "Fred, you're going to get into a lot of trouble if you don't stop, and how-"

His arm was shaken off. Parvati took another sip of her nearly-gone coffee. "Maybe he's got her tied to a chair like Ginny."

Lavender shot her a look of pure venom as Fred continued his barrage of accusations. "You underhanded cheating bugger, I know you're responsible somehow! You sent her a new case, or told her there was something up that you hadn't gotten to yet, and you know she wouldn't be able to say no! You sent her off into the unknown, that's the only explanation, and she hasn't contacted me! You got her captured, or hurt, or-"

Alex flung his arms in the air in frustration, grabbed Fred's shoulders, spun him around mid sentence, and laid a kiss dead on his mouth. Fred shoved him away furiously. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Getting your mind off Minister Malfoy for thirty seconds," Alex said, wiping his mouth and looking disgusted. "If you don't shut up, he'll have grounds for harassment and assault and you'll be in holding faster than it took for you to break that off." He rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth, and made a face. "Foul. Did you stop brushing your teeth after school or something?"

Fred's mouth worked, but no sound came out. He looked ready to kill something, and Alex was certainly the closest target. Before he could act, the ambassador continued.

"If someone didn't do something, you'd be in jail, got it? And how are you supposed to help Angelina from behind bars? Tell me that, Fred Weasley."

He glared at Fred for a moment longer, then turned and abruptly marched off. "Now, I'm going to gargle and see if we can't actually get a room so that Alejandro can finally get home."

He grabbed the arm of the Spanish ambassador on his way out. Surprisingly, very few of the people dashing around the room seemed to have noticed the disturbance. Parvati sighed. "I knew he never got over him. Anything to get his hands on..."

Lavender's hand cracked across Parvati's face, and the whole room went silent. All eyes turned to the small secretary, staring into her friend's face with absolute fury and disgust. Lavender's voice was harsh, the words practically spit into Parvati's face. "Shut the hell up right now, Parvati. I mean it. No one here is in the mood for your self-centered wit, least of all me."

She crossed her arms. "Angelina is missing. Not just unable to be found, not just busy with other work, but actually missing. Completely. She's _gone_. We've got over half the Ministry trying to find her, none of the Aurors not currently on assignment can go out until we do, we need her to help get Harry back on track on this deal with France, and Fred Weasley happens to be missing a wife on top of all that. And through it all, all you can do is sit here and drink your coffee and act like it's a normal day at the office and make snide comments about everything when all of us are frantic except for you and aren't even acting logically anymore in the hopes that something will happen and we can find her...."

Lavender stopped, gasping for breath, and stared at Parvati with those blazing eyes. After a moment, she spoke again. "Go on and make your little jokes, Miss Patil. Just don't expect us all to listen and giggle when you do. Some of us have work to do."

She stopped, and headed over to the snack table, where she picked up a stack of papers. She turned, and stared at the silent mass of witches and wizards. "Well, somebody say something! Aren't you all supposed to be looking for a missing witch?"

Everyone went back to their frantic bustling and searching. Draco nodded curtly, and strode out, gesturing for Hermione to follow. Fred sank down on the couch next to Parvati and put his head in his hands. Parvati didn't move for a while, still stunned from Lavender's verbal attack. After a few moments, though, she put a hand gingerly on his shoulder.

"Don't worry," she said weakly. "They'll find her."

_Now,_ she thought, _if only I believed that myself._

***

            It was hard to mark the passage of time in a place as perpetually dark as Gabrielle's house.   Even so, Harry was aware that he had been there longer than was warranted by a simple investigative visit.  Although that was certainly not a suitable description for it any longer, in any case.

            He leaned up on his elbow, wondering if he could reach his glasses.  A single candle flickered on the bedside table, and Gabrielle slept, curled into a ball at his side, clutching his arm to her as though afraid he would vanish.  Even without his glasses, he could study her in the flickering candlelight.  Her hair was spread under her, the curls messy, a few tendrils meandering across her face.  With her long eyelashes lying on her cheeks and her chest rising and falling in the even rhythm of deep sleep, she looked like nothing so much as a child after a fever, sleeping off the last vestiges of illness.

            A child.  What a… completely unfitting time to compare her to a child.  A crooked sort of smile crossed Harry's face and he had to hold back a derisive little laugh.  In bed.  In the middle of the afternoon.  With a suspect.

            Honestly.

            He tried to extricate his arm from her tight grasp.  She murmured something unintelligible, but refused to let go.  He sighed, and reached over her with his other arm to don his glasses.  The room jumped into focus.  Even in her private quarters, it was dark, and deep red velvet curtains were drawn across the windows to completely hide the light of the sun.  The tall, ornate bed was canopied in unrelieved black.  The candles in the wall sconces weren't lit, but even so, it was easy enough to see that the walls were unadorned, although they were papered in dark colors.  It wasn't the sort of room that suited her.

            He looked down at her again, sleeping peacefully, the black satin sheets drawn up almost to under her chin, as though she were chilled.  She looked so tired, as though she hadn't slept nearly enough lately.  He sighed and slowly worked himself loose.  She murmured again, but this time, he rose in any case, and began moving softly around the room, preparing to leave.  He couldn't stay, of course, as much as the idea appealed.  He was supposed to be working.

            "Working," he muttered under his breath.  "Right."

            She was still sleeping when he stood by the bed ten minutes later, not at all sure of what to do.  He smoothed the hair off of her face, then gave in to temptation and leaned over to kiss her softly on the forehead.  She didn't wake.  Sighing, he pulled a pencil out of the inside pocket of his robes.  With a wave of his wand, it became a white tulip.  He placed it where her hands still curled, as though holding onto him even when he was gone.  With one last look, he stepped out of the room and softly closed the door behind him.

            The hallways of the house were dark and empty.  The house-elf he had seen earlier was not in evidence.  The oppressive silence seemed to suggest that he and she were the only things alive inside the house.  Down the stairs, down the hall, and out the door he went, moving by touch sometimes, it was so dark, even in the middle of the day.  The heavy door swung silently open the moment he touched it, and he winced at the bright sunlight coming in.  He stepped into the early autumn afternoon, golden and fragrant.  The door closed without a sound, and when he tried turning the knob, it was locked.

            _What the hell am I doing?_

            With that thought, he closed his eyes and Disapparated with a pop.

***

            The wing of the hospital had been cleared completely. Not a single human being could be seen-no doctors, no nurses, no other visitors to be found, save the one very important visitor walking briskly down the hallway, her heels clicking a staccato rhythm on the linoleum.

            She strode through the corridor with long strides that sent her robes twirling around her legs. Her face was completely blank, devoid of even its usual business-like expression as she opened the door to the room.

            The second she entered, that changed. Her eyes widened, and her voice snapped out like a whip. "I was told zere would be no one else 'ere today. I specifically asked for zat to be ze case."

            Sirius looked up, and surprise bloomed over his face. "Oh! I'm sorry; I had no idea…"

            Minister Poulain crossed her arms. "Well, now you do. Now if you would kindly leave?"

            He looked back at the pale figure lying in the bed, and shook his head. "If it pleases you, Minister, I'd rather not."

            The French Minister's eyes narrowed for a moment, then traveled to where Sirius' hand rested gently atop Fleur's motionless one. Her gaze softened. "Very well. Do you mind if I visit as well?"

            Sirius smiled distractedly. "Not in the least." He stood, and gestured to the chair. "Please, sit."

            "Merci." She settled into the chair, and peered at the chart hanging beside Fleur's bed. "'Ow 'as she been doing?"

            "Better, I suppose. She's been moving a bit more, but there really haven't been any major changes yet." He ran a hand over her hair gently. "At least she's not doing any worse. There's always a chance, as long as she doesn't take a turn for the worse."

            Minister Poulain nodded somberly, and put the chart back. "Yes. Sank God for zat."

            Sirius made a noise of agreement, then looked at her more closely. "You know, you look familiar."

            "You 'ave seen me everywhere, yes?" She smiled wryly.

            "Well, yes, but you do look familiar. Or you sound familiar. I can't tell which, but there's something about you that's very familiar."

            Minister Poulain looked him dead in the eyes. "You aren't ze first person to say zat. I must remind you of someone. I 'ave 'eard zat before."

            Sirius stared back at her pensively for a moment, then smiled. "That must be it. You do have the sort of face that triggers memory."

            He knelt beside the bed and looked up at the Minister. "Why are you here?"

            "I make it a point to keep up with ze events of ze witches and wizards in my country," she replied. "When I read about zis poor girl, and learned zat she 'ad no family nearby to visit 'er, I took it upon myself to check up on 'er and keep zem informed."

            "Oh." Sirius looked genuinely impressed. "You really are an amazing woman, Minister. Not just in matters of magic and our world."

            She smiled back at him. "Many sanks."

            She stood, and Sirius followed suit. "I apologize for my earlier be'avior. Your company was most enjoyable. I'm glad to see zat Fleur 'as someone 'oo cares so deeply to watch over 'er."

            Sirius looked at the bed, and smiled sadly. "It's my pleasure, Minister Poulain."

            The Minister followed his gaze, eyes sad. "I must be going now. If you'll excuse me."

            "Have a lovely day," he answered as she left the room. The door clicked closed, and Sirius returned to his once-again solitary vigil.

            Outside the small window, night fell.  A nurse stuck her head in the door, informing him that visiting hours were long over.  He sighed and stood, brushing his fingers over Fleur's cheek, his eyes haunted, before walking out.  He did smile once, a smile that never reached his eyes, as he left the building.  "So that's where she went," he murmured under his breath.  A woman passing by looked at him curiously, but of course no one had any idea what he was talking about.

            And no one would think to ask.

***

            Gabrielle woke to soft footsteps on her thick carpet.  It was dark, even though one of the windows had a curtain half drawn back.  She sat up, pulling her sheet to her chin, her eyes growing wide and rather frightened.

            "If I wanted to, I'd already have," said the man in the shadows, peering out over the garden.

            She shivered anyway, clutching the sheet.  She wasn't sure if she should apologize, or beg for mercy, maybe, or just keep quiet.  Who knew what he wanted from her?  She just kept quiet.

            "You've managed to cloud his judgment and convince him you have done nothing wrong," he continued after a moment.  "Your means were… rather extreme.  Still, I commend you."

            Gabrielle swallowed back a shout that that was not why she had done it.  "Sank you," she whispered.

            "Of course, he'll spend even more time here, now.  You'll have to be careful."

            "Time 'ere is time away from ze investigation," she said just as softly.  She had her own reasons for wanting him to fail.  Once he knew what she had done… all the blood on her hands… she must not think.  She had to stop.

            "Good girl," he said, with a delighted little laugh.  "You're starting to think the way you should."  He turned to her, and his face was eerily lovely, though barely distinguishable.  "Don't get attached," he said, his voice still surprisingly mild.

            "Of course not," she said, just as softly.  People she was seen to care about got hurt.

            "We have another meeting next week," he said.  "I trust I will not need to curse you this time so you behave?"

            She was silent.  She could not make herself commit murder without the Imperius Curse.  She had tried.  For Fleur, she had tried.  In the end, he had cursed her so she would keep to her task.  She wasn't entirely sure she wasn't grateful.

            "Get some rest.  You look frightful."  He walked into the deepest shadows in the corner, and she knew he was gone.

***

            Hermione sat down with a small sigh of mixed relief and frustration. "Is there anywhere we haven't looked yet?"

            "Parvati's sneaking into Harry's office to see if he might have anything that might give us a clue, but from what you've given me, no," Lavender answered. She frowned at her superior in concern, and handed her a cup of tea. "Here. You should relax. Aren't you due or something?"

            "I'm fine." Hermione took a sip of the tea, and made a face. "What _is this?"_

            Lavender buried her face in her hands. "Oh, not again…"

            Ginny was sitting with Fred, rubbing his shoulders and trying to talk him out of the despondent state he'd fallen into. "Don't worry. Look, we're all concerned, and we've got everyone in the Ministry working on this. If she's anywhere to be found, we'll find her."

            "And if she's not?" Fred asked, voice hollow.

            Ginny winced. "Oh, that isn't what I meant, and you know it…there's always hope. Angelina could get out of anything; she's always been able to. Even if she's into something really dangerous, she'll get out of it. We'll find her, I promise."

            Fred took a deep, shuddering breath, then looked up. "Where'd the bastard get to?"

            "Who, Draco?"

            Fred cracked a grin. "Well, him, too, but I meant Alex. He disappeared. Where is he? I still need to hurt him for earlier."

            "He went along to translate for a couple of Aurors that headed to France. They're trying to track down Harry or Minister Poulain to see if they might have any idea where Angelina is."

            "Oh, you mean he actually has a job?"

            Parvati walked back in, carrying a small stack of folders. "Contrary to what he believes, yes. Hermione, I think I found a few files around Harry's case in France, but I don't know if any of it will help. I thought I'd let you look through it, see if I missed anything."

            Hermione took one look at the files, and closed her eyes. "Not now. Lavender, could you check? If you still can't find anything, then I'll look at them."

            "Absolutely." Lavender took the files from her friend and headed over to one of the couches to sit down. "This could take a while. Does anyone have any other ideas where we could look?"

            Hermione didn't open her eyes. "None. I'm too tired. Has the Auror department come up with anything new?"

            "They're all out scouring the seedier parts of the world to see if they can find her that way." Parvati sat down beside Hermione, and looked at her tea. "Can I try a sip?"

            "Your funeral."

            "Hey, green tea!"

            Lavender looked up from the files and made a face at Hermione. "See?"

            Blaise ducked his head in. "Any luck yet?"

            "None. We're still banking on France." Parvati set down the tea and rubbed her temples. "That's the hot spot right now, and Auror priority. I can't think where else she might be."

            Blaise's expression fell. "Oh. Well, hopefully something will turn up, right?"

            "We're hoping. That's why we've got two Aurors there looking in person."

            His eyebrows rose. "Two? Firsthand?"

            "Yeah. We're hoping that they can get in contact with Harry or Minister Poulain and see if they received any information about the France situation that might give us a clue to where Angelina is."

            Blaise tilted his head thoughtfully. "Well, that's a start, at least. Good luck. We're still looking down in information for any missed floo transmissions."

            "Thanks."

            Hermione let out a small groan, and Lavender set down the files. "Hermione, please! Take a break. Why don't you go home and rest? This isn't good for you."

            "Because I'm due."

            "Exactly." Lavender _tsk_ed. "Because you're due soon, and you need your rest. I won't be done with these files for a while yet. Go home."

            Hermione sighed and pressed a hand to her burgeoning belly. "Lavender…"

            The door banged open.

            "What the hell happened here?  I got back as soon as I flaming could!"  Harry, looking disheveled, gave those assembled an exasperated glare.  "I was off the clock for less than half a day!  Then I come back to find Higgs and Dobbs there, along with Alex of all unsuitable people, ready to beat my head in?  What the hell?"

            "Minister Malfoy is going to kill you," Lavender informed him in a singsong voice.

            Blaise, on his way out the door, smirked.  "And you have lipstick on your collar."

            From the depths of the office, Draco's voice howled, **_"POTTER!"___**

            "I'll buy the flower arrangement for the funeral," said Ginny, jumping up at the voice, "but if you don't get the hell in there he'll kill me too, and then I'm not buying anything.  So get."  She nearly pushed him into the office in front of her as a shield.

            Hermione winced, both hands on her stomach now.  "_Excuse_ me," she said in a firmer tone of voice.

            Lavender patted her on the shoulder with a, "There, there, yelling can't be good for the baby."  She didn't so much as look up from the files she was studying.

            Hermione seethed.  "That's what I'm _trying to say!  The bloody baby-"_

            "Swearing is bad, too, Hermione," Fred said firmly.  "What if Ronald Jr. hears it?"

            "We already _have_ a Ronald Jr.," Hermione got out, scowling.  "He was the first.  Of two.  Of which there are _about_ to be three, so-"

            The door flew open again to admit Alicia Spinnet of Foreign Affairs.  Her usually neat hair was rather messy today, and her eyes were slightly too wide.

            "You let him corner you in the broom closet again, didn't you?" said Fred, looking at her mussed robes and shaking his head.

            Alicia blushed.  "No!  I had a talk with him about… how did you know about the first time?"  Her eyes narrowed.  "You've been spying, you sicko!"

            "No," Fred said, managing to summon up the energy for a grin, somehow.  "I'm just his brother."

            Hermione remained largely ignored by all assembled.

            "I will deal with you _later_," Alicia growled.  "In the meantime, I've had a transmission from Minister Poulain, which Minister Malfoy doesn't seem to be taking, so-"

            "He's in there," said Lavender, gesturing with the folder. "Must have cast a Silencing Charm on the office so that we couldn't listen to him rip Harry up one side and down the other.  Bit out of character, really."

            Alicia glared.  She was rather good at it. "I don't care to know, unless yesterday was the big day, which by the lack of monetary reimbursement and no significant improvement in Virginia's mood, I deduct it was not," she said curtly.  "But as for Minister Poulain, she sent her own people out to look, especially around that manor in the city, and they-"

            Parvati banged the door yet again and stalked into the room with a mug of coffee, which she thrust at Fred.  "Drink or sleep," she said menacingly.  "And if the rest of you ask why you didn't get coffee, everyone dies."

            "Will you just _listen_ to me for a damn moment!?" Hermione screamed.  She looked about ready to cry.

            "No swearing," Alicia and Parvati said in perfect unison.

            Just then, the one fire not being used for conversation on the other end of the room turned a violent shade of green and Emma Dobbs, former Hufflepuff and current Auror hurtled out.  She looked scared to death and about ready to throw up, though very little phased the plump, neat woman anymore.  She looked wildly around the room, searching for an authority figure, and finding none, turned instead to Fred Weasley.  "They found her," she said softly.

            All the noise in the room immediately went dead.

            In the silence, Hermione closed her eyes, clearly done with any possible formalities, and screamed.  _"If someone doesn't get me to a flaming hospital **THIS bloody MINUTE** I'm going to give birth **RIGHT HERE** before I yank those flaming bananas out of your ears and **beat you ALL to bloody death with them!!!"**_

After one moment of thunderous silence, chaos resumed.


	6. A Bushel of Bananas

~*All You Wanted*~

Chapter Six: A Bushel of Bananas

Dove:  It's dark and depressing!  With bananas!!!  Ahem, yes.  Mostly the hospital here, though a couple of France scenes as well, and one more disappearance.  One of our favorite characters apparently vanishes for the duration of the chapter, and banana fun abounds… myself, I don't know why Alex didn't strangle Parvati over it.  I would have.

Bena: Yes, but _I_ wouldn't have, _I_ would have laughed hysterically, and since he's my character... yes, I am intent on making this all about me for some reason. Blame it on my tragic lack of sleep and the fact that I feel like annoying everyone. I wrote angstiness, though! Be in awe and prepare for the apocalypse! *Hides from the incoming meteors*

Disclaimer: This is an A/U.  Sirius is alive.  Considering that fact, wouldn't you rather we owned it?

_"Giving birth is like taking your lower lip and forcing it over your head."_

Ron dashed into the waiting room of the hospital. "Where is she?"

Parvati and Alex both gestured in the direction of the swiftly approaching screams without looking up from their coffee mugs. Alex flicked his eyes upward through his lashes. "You might want to step out of the way, Ron."

Ron did so, blinking, trying to orient himself. "Why? How did you two get coffee so fast?"

"Lavender," they answered in unison as Hermione, several Healers, and a rather large portion of the Ministry burst through the door and began racing down the hallway towards Maternity. Hermione's angry yells echoed back at them.

"I'm already bloody well into labor and you take time to fit me into a bleeding hospital gown and fill out several dozen charts? Bloody imbeciles!"

"She's even overly articulate when giving birth," Parvati said wonderingly. "How do you put up with it, Ron?"

Alex took the rather startled yet-again-father-to-be and led him briskly down the hall. "Come on, they'll need you there."

"Of course she'll need me there," Ron spluttered, somewhat recovered from his earlier disorientation caused by being yanked out his brothers' shop rather abruptly and being all but thrown into the entrance to the hospital.  "She's my wife..."

"Not Hermione, the Healer." Alex released his arm and gently pushed him forward as they neared the parade. "Someone'll need to restrain your darling wife, and it might make birthing rather difficult if half the Healers are unconscious or bleeding from the ears."

"Alex!" Lavender grabbed his arm and yanked him into the fray. "You got him here!"

"Thankfully, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes has several built in fireplaces. It was one of the first things Hermione insisted on them doing when she landed her job. Can't have Muggles seeing magical flames spouting out of brick walls from buildings that aren't supposed to be there, after all."

Hermione screamed again. "Run faster, can't you move faster? Bloody hell, I could get down there faster than you and I'm giving birth for-"

"You've so ruined her," Lavender said sadly. "I certainly hope the children don't learn all your little verbal habits."

Up next to Hermione, Harry squeezed her hand. "Hang on, Hermione, we're almost there."

"Do you realize," she growled through clenched teeth, "that I have yet to actually give birth while actually in Maternity?"

"And it hasn't hurt the other children at all, has it?"

Ron, who had just gotten to his wife's opposite side, froze, and went pale. "Oh, God, I forgot the kids..."

Hermione sat straight up, gasped, and fell back again. "You left the children at that joke shop?"

"Er, no..." Ron caught back up again, and smiled weakly. "They're at home, actually."

_"Alone?!"_

"Alex," Lavender ordered, "go play baby-sitter. You're good at that."

"Made half my pocket money watching kids during school," Alex answered with a wink, and promptly Disapparated.

"Oh," Ginny said in surprise, "so you _do_ have a job, Lavender."

"Delegating Mrs. Weasley's responsibilities. It's what I get paid for."

"I thought it was the coffee," Ron responded, trying to avoid his wife's heated gaze.

"No, that's only the bulk of it."

Harry wondered who would get the points for that exchange, then remembered Parvati was back in the waiting room with Fred... and that this was hardly the time to be keeping score.

If they had been, Hermione would have been way ahead as it was.

Ron kept looking around. "Where's Malfoy? I thought Alex said he came with Ginny."

"Haven't seen him since the shuffle in the Floo rooms," Ginny responded.  
"I hope he ended up in Sussex somewhere."

Hermione squeezed her husband's hand savagely, and pulled him down so they were face to face. "I'm in labor and all you can think about is Draco Malfoy?"

"We shouldn't have sent Alex away," Lavender mused; "he understands hormones much better than the rest of us."

Hermione's only response to Ron's inarticulate disclaimers was a scream of anger and a cry of pain as they finally burst into Maternity.

            It took the nurses a full ten minutes to clear all but Ron from the birthing room.  They would likely have failed even then, except Hermione began railing that anyone she could still see within the next ten seconds would taste her full and righteous wrath.  Seeing the look of pain on Ron's face as she nearly broke his hand in her grip and the look on her face, which didn't bear describing, the others cleared the room quickly enough after that.

            Outside, Harry paced the waiting room, clearly worried over more than just Hermione's screaming.  Lavender and Parvati sat in one corner, and were both sipping espressos, though when and where Lavender had managed to procure good coffee would likely stay a mystery for all time.  Ginny paced in opposition to Harry, but she was muttering angrily about dumb blonds and it not being so hard to bloody be where one had promised.  Parvati deduced this was to do with the as-yet missing Minister Malfoy.

            Fred wasn't there, of course.  He had run off in the opposite direction, chasing Emma Dobbs, who seemed unwilling to say anything else to him before speaking to Minister Malfoy, who everyone had thought was on his way to the hospital.  Now that he had seemingly vanished off the face of the earth, Ginny was grumbling, Emma was still likely fleeing from Fred, whatever she had found, and…

            A scream came from the birthing room, one that sounded suspiciously like Ron, interspersed between the many screams, some of them quite inappropriate, from Hermione.  Harry started.

            "Don't worry, Harry," Lavender said with half a smile.  "She probably just broke his hand.  She did that when Molly was born a couple years ago.  They'll fix it."

            Parvati laughed a little and patted Lavender's hand.  "I'm fairly certain that's not what he's worried about."  She looked towards the closed door, her eyebrows going up at a particularly obscene phrase screamed at the top of Hermione's considerable lungs.  "I need to remember that one," she mused.  "In any case, Lavender, what we have here are two people worried over… well, Ginny's worried about Draco, of course-"

            "Bite me," Ginny commented , but never stopped pacing.

            "-And as for Harry," Parvati said, not breaking stride, "well, I could figure it much better if Harry wasn't always gone, but… Harry, who _did_ leave that lipstick on your collar?"

            "Red," Lavender commented.  "Classy, but risky.  Most other colors wouldn't show as brightly on a white shirt."

            "Well, if I didn't want anyone to know what I was doing in my spare time, _I_ would check my collar for lipstick before leaving the comforts of… wherever," Parvati mused.  Lavender choked down a laugh.  "Hypothetically, of course," Parvati added, her expression not changing a hair.

            "What is this, a bloody beauty parlor?" Harry finally growled.

            Ginny turned to him, her eyes narrowed.  "Yes, well, if that lipstick came from where I think it came from, I think it's safe to say you're dead, whether by means of Minister Malfoy or your own stupidity, I can't say."  She glared at Parvati and Lavender.  "Go take a coffee break."  Realizing they already held coffee, she managed to look even more menacing and authoritative.  "Or something."

            "I like 'or something'," Parvati said decisively.  The two of them sauntered away, laughing over something or other.

            Even as Hermione continued screaming her anger at Ron for everything from the first time he had ever smiled at her onward, Ginny took Harry's shoulders in hand and pushed him down onto one of the hard hospital chairs.  "Talk," she said, her tone a clear warning.

            "I have nothing to say," Harry said firmly.

            "You… that woman is a suspect, Harry."

            "What woman?" he said, his voice deceptively mild.

            "The one that bloody well left her lipstick on your clothes, you great buffoon!"

            Harry's eyes narrowed.  "You're prepared to prove this, Virginia?  I don't recall giving you permission to meddle in my affairs."

            Ginny recoiled as though slapped.  Her voice was laced with hurt as she said, "Well, you've always needed someone to tell you when you were being an idiot.  But I guess everything changes, doesn't it?"  With that, she stalked out of the waiting room in the opposite direction from Parvati and Lavender, leaving Harry alone.

***

Fred stood next to Emma and stared at the ground. "So where did you find her?"

Emma's reply seemed to come from a distance, and after a very long time. "Washed up on the banks of the Seine. It's not pretty."

Fred nodded, and didn't reply. After a moment, a soft touch brushed against his arm. The fingers were cold from the rain. "I'm so sorry, Fred."

The rain had soaked them thoroughly, leaving Emma's hair straggling around her face and Terrence's standing up in wet spikes from running his fingers through it nervously. Fred's hair was slicked against his head, the water turning it dark red, crimson, like blood.

"Are you sure you want to see?" Terrence asked softly.

"Yes." Fred looked up, the heaviness of his soul making even that small movement hard. "I want to see her. She's my wife."

"She was your wife," Terrence muttered softly as he led them towards the bank of the river.

There weren't many people standing at the railings overlooking the river because of the rain. The three of them began their descent down the slope with no witnesses. Emma had already spelled the location so no one else would disturb Angelina, who could not be moved until all the investigative formalities were observed. The rain made the grass slick, and the mud washed up from the rising water line left slimy globs along the shore. Terrence slid a few steps from the edge of the river and barely regained his balance as he grabbed Emma's arm. Her feet scrabbled on the slick ground, but held.

Fred followed just behind them, and when he slipped, he did fall. And he didn't get up.

Emma turned. "Fred? Fred!"

Both Aurors hurried back to where Fred lay on his back in the mud and water. "Are you okay, Fred?"

He blinked, the rain falling into his eyes blurring his vision. It didn't help, and he blinked harder until he realized it wasn't the rain.

Fred sat up, wiping the tears hastily from his eyes, and stood. "I'm fine. Just a little stunned."

Emma's eyes were dark with concern. "We could turn back if you like. Terrence and I can bring her back ourselves. You can see her after-"

"I want to see my wife now."

Emma looked away, and Terrence nodded slowly. "We're almost there."

They walked along the edge of the river a little longer before Emma stopped Terrence and pointed. He nodded, and turned to Fred. "She's just over there."

Fred could barely make out something sprawled halfway out of the water. He stumbled over, some crazed part of him unbelieving, convinced there'd been a mistake, or she was just hurt...

He stopped just short of what remained of the body.

"No."

He couldn't even look at his wife's battered and destroyed face. It was Angelina... but it wasn't his Angelina. It wasn't his wife. It was... death.

"No."

He whirled, slipping in the mud but not falling, and stared at Emma and Terrence with wide eyes. "No. No."

Emma stepped forward, eyes filled with aching sympathy. "Fred..."

He stepped back, slipped again, and this time he let himself fall. "No! It's not her; it can't be her! That this is not my wife! No!"

Terrence put out a hand to stop Emma, and shook his head. Reluctantly, she stepped back. Fred continued to stare up at them, eyes pleading. "There's been a mistake. There has to have been a mistake..."

Neither Auror spoke. Fred dropped his hands to his side in defeat.

Their silence was enough to tell him there was no chance.

***

            "Point me in the direction of Virginia," said the Healer Su Warrington, looking very frazzled, as she stood looking down her nose at the seated Harry.  The woman had been in his year at school, a Ravenclaw, and maintained close ties with Cho Chang.  She had seemed mostly quiet back then, but having made her acquaintance the last several times he had been here, Harry knew better.

            "You might not want her," he said.  "She's not in a good mood."

            The diminutive Healer let out a breath.  "Yes, well, she's in a better mood than Mrs. Weasley, who just broke her husband's hand… again.  And won't let it go.  We need someone to go sit with her while we take him to get his bones mended, and she's a prime candidate.  Unless you'd rather go."

            "That way," Harry pointed immediately.  Sitting with Hermione while she was in labor was too much for even his Gryffindor self to handle.  The small Asian Healer took off down the hall, running.  Clearly, she wanted to be back in the birthing room as soon as possible, likely before Hermione managed to destroy something, or someone.  Arthur and Molly were supposed to be on their way, but it was anyone's guess when they'd get there.  Harry privately thought that Molly might have been called to France to take care of Fred.  What he had heard of the situation sounded grim.

            Su came back with Ginny, and even though Ginny was not a tall woman, Su was still a head shorter.  Still, her stride was full of purpose as she ushered Ginny through the doors, saying something about Ginny's sister-in-law making her scared to death now that she was pregnant herself, and considering breaking Cassius' hand on the general principle of the thing.

            Harry was alone in the waiting room a few more minutes before Alex came in, holding the hand of Ron Jr., with Molly on his hip, sucking her thumb and looking around curiously through big, brown eyes.  Ron and Hermione's children didn't seem at all affected by the atmosphere.  In fact, Ronald Jr., all of six years old, relaxed visibly when he heard his mother's voice.

            "They wanted to see Mummy," Alex said exhaustedly.  "I had to bring them in or suffer their tantrums.  They can scream as loud as she can."  He jerked his head towards the direction of Hermione's voice.  "Did I miss anything?"

            "Parvati managed to piss me off, I managed to piss Ginny off, and Hermione broke Ron's hand.  Again."

            "Sounds like the usual day at the zoo," Alex said, plopping down on a chair next to him.  "I need to donate to this hospital once I win that betting pool just to get some decent chairs, for Merlin's sake.  Why are they always so uncomfortable?"

            Harry shrugged.  "Law of the universe."

            It was a good quarter of an hour later before Parvati and Lavender returned, bearing more coffee which they grudgingly shared with the men, and relief that Ginny, who was obviously in a rare mood, wasn't there.  "Alex, why did you bring the kids?"

            "Because they told me to," Alex told Lavender tiredly.  "They're being quiet."  Indeed, Molly had crawled onto "Uncle Harry's" lap and promptly fallen asleep, and Ron Jr. was studiously coloring something that looked like a hippogriff hit by an Engorgement Charm and several of the nastier hexes.

            "You should go buy us food, or something," Lavender said.  "We _did_ bring the coffee."

            "I have a banana in my ear," Alex said coolly.  "I'm afraid I didn't hear you."

            "Perhaps if you removed the banana from your ear and shoved it into some other orifice, you'd be in a better mood," Parvati said, smiling sweetly.  "And we're _hungry_."

            Harry, seeing a fight brewing, quickly set Molly down on Lavender's lap and excused himself to find a vending machine.

            "That," Alex said frostily, "was highly uncalled for."

            "I'm afraid I didn't hear you, as I am currently fainting from hunger and will be unable to hear a word anyone says until the situation is remedied."

            "I didn't think you liked bananas, or anything of the like."

            Lavender failed to hold back, and began giggling uncontrollably. Alex looked around. "Has Malfoy shown up yet?"

            "Not yet." Parvati stopped glaring at her superior long enough to take a calming sip of coffee and answer. "I'm hoping Ginny's rather creative curses as he tried to come here with his arms around her sent him flying somewhere into Beijing. Don't take that as an invitation," she added dryly as Alex opened his mouth, "that's not an excuse for you to go to China again."

            Lavender continued giggling as she spoke. "I've never heard of anything that anatomically impossible being shouted during floo trips. I wonder if Minister Malfoy is experiencing any of those effects right now?"  
            "If so, it's probably with his head one place and the rest of him somewhere else. That would certainly make those threats possible."

            "There are children present," Alex reminded them.

            "Oh, we haven't said anything they'd understand yet." Parvati rolled her eyes. "I'm not that uneducated."

            Little Ron Jr. looked up from his artistic masterpiece. "When's Mummy going to come out again?"

            Parvati looked about ready to snipe at Alex again, but Lavender elbowed her and she changed her words mid-thought. "We have no idea. Sometime soon, I'd expect."

            Alex shook his head. "It'll be a while yet. Ron's broken hand usually comes pretty early on, if I remember the last couple of times."

            The child tilted his head, and raised an eyebrow. "I thought I was one of the couple of times?"

            Alex shot Parvati a look that very clearly said, _I told you so._

A scream of rage echoed down to the waiting room, and everyone winced. Harry came back carrying an armful of food. "Are we really only about halfway through? She hasn't started cursing us all to the lowest reaches of he-"

            "Children," Alex reminded a bit testily.

            "To extremely painful and prolonged deaths," Harry amended, "and it's been quite a bit longer than usual."

            Parvati lunged. "I don't care, you have food and you're _not giving us any _why?"__

Harry tossed a chocolate bar at Ron Jr., and distributed the other bits of food among the others. Parvati eyed the yellow-wrapped bar he'd given her along with everything else. "What's this?"

            "Energy bar." Harry grinned evilly. "I got you banana."

            Alex stuck out his tongue and Lavender snatched the bar from Parvati. "I want! Gimme!"

            The chocolate-covered child in the room raised his face again and asked rather stickily, "If Mummy won't be out to see us soon, when will she stop screaming?"

            "Never," Alex, Parvati, and Lavender chorused in unison.

            "What is this you're teaching my grandson?"  Everyone turned to the door to find a very tired-looking Arthur Weasley in muddy robes.

            "Nothing, sir," Lavender said soothingly.  "At least, nothing I didn't know at his age."

            Harry, sensing dangerous ground by Parvati's sudden fit of giggles and Alex's overly bland face, walked over to the retired Ministry member and offered his cup of coffee.  "You look like you could use this," he said.  "Where's Molly?"

            "Paris," Arthur said shortly, his eyes tight.

            Harry decided not to say anything.  It was clearly bad, and he was really overdue at the site himself, but he had never been missing when one of Ron and Hermione's children was born.  He _was_ their godfather, after all.  "Do you need to sit down?  Ron's still getting his bones mended."

            Arthur nodded.  "About halfway, then?"

            "Sounds like," Parvati said.  "Alex, these kids are going to be learning much worse things than Lavender and I can teach them if they keep listening to their mother as raptly as Junior is doing."

            "They heard it all when they were born themselves," Alex said reasonably.  "Besides, you underestimate yourselves, and I don't want to deal with their tempers if I tried to take them home.  Do you want them, Grandpa?"

            "Not right now, Alex," Harry said softly.  "Sit, Arthur.  Really.  Here, drink something."  Forcing the half-finished coffee into the older man's hands, Harry sat back and closed his eyes.  _Angelina… why Angelina?  What did she know?_

***

            The paperwork was unending.  Seeing as a foreign government official had been involved, the French side seemed frightened they were to be blamed, and the English mostly were too shocked or angry to think of placating them.  It wasn't anyone's fault, Emma thought.  If anyone could close a case quickly, Harry could.  She almost wished she had been partnered with him, instead of Terrence.  She _did like Terrence, but the man was always so restrained.  At least, she decided, that meant he could stay inside the morgue to finish the parley and she could go outside for a much needed breath of air.  At least the rain was over, and Fred's mother had arrived to take the grieving man out of her hands.  Now, she had a few minutes to compose herself._

            Leaning against the wall outside, she rubbed her temple.  She was developing a terrible headache from all of this French, and the weather wasn't helping, and Angelina… well, she wouldn't think of Angelina.

            She felt something warm and furry wind between her legs and opened her eyes to find a sleek black Abyssinian cat looking up at her from unblinking eyes.  Emma summoned a smile for the animal.  "Hello, kitty," she said softly.  "Or I should say bonjour, I suppose."

            She knelt down to stroke the cat's soft head when suddenly, it wasn't there anymore.  She looked up, wide-eyed, with a mix of wariness and respect at the man that stood in its place.  "Mi-"

            "Dormimus," he said shortly.  She felt her eyes closing, though she fought the sleep spell.  But there was no helping it.  She slumped on the ground at the feet of the smiling man.

***

            Ginny's mouth moved rapidly, eyes blazing. Harry frowned. "What?" he yelled. 

She gestured again, pointed at her ears. Harry blinked. "Oh. Right." He pulled out the earplugs. "These work much better than silencing charms, really."

"Where the bloody hell is Draco?" Ginny screamed, her voice adding to the chaos and noise of the hospital.

"Does it matter?"

"What?"

Harry sighed inwardly, and raised his voice to be heard over Hermione's screams. "Does it matter where he is?"

"Yes!" Ginny had to raise her voice even louder as Hermione's screams escalated for a moment and were joined cries and orders from the doctors and others in the delivery room. "He could order those idiots to not take any of us in there! Ron's pretending his hand still hurts so he can stay away, the cheap bastard!"

"Oh," Harry shouted back. "Right."

A banshee scream issued from the delivery room. "You sadists, what the hell do you mean telling me to just try a little harder? I'm in bloody _labor, you think I'm not _trying to get this thing out of me?!?!?"__

"I don't blame Ron in the least, either," Harry commented. "I think missing all the bones in my body would be less painful that being in there right now."

"What?" Ginny shouted.

"Nothing!" Harry yelled back.

"Where's Alex?" Ginny winced as a crash sounded from the Healers' torture chamber. "Maybe he could deal with her!"

"Who knows? I think he was smart enough to take off a long time ago!"

Parvati entered the room just then, carrying a tray of hospital coffee.

Ginny snatched the tray away, and pointed the secretary towards the delivery room. "There. Now. Wear protective covering."

Parvati blinked, then sneered. "I knew there was a reason Lavender told me to take over coffee duty."

Mr. Weasley shook his head. "Perceptive girl, that Lavender. She volunteered childcare duty before any of us."

"Out of the line of duty." Ginny groaned. "I don't remember either of the other children taking this long."

"Oh, they didn't. But she was noisier."

"How do you deal with it?"

Mr. Weasley smiled wearily. "I don't. That's the father's job."

"The father who is very intelligently keeping his hand broken," Harry said with a smile. 

Ginny let out a scream to rival Hermione's. "The bloody coward! And where the bloody hell is Draco?" 

Mr. Weasley's eyes narrowed. "Minister Malfoy? Since when are you two on 

such cozy terms, Virginia?" 

"Oh, do I win the parental learning pool, too?" Alex breezed in. "Oh, good, coffee!" 

"Where have you been?' Ginny demanded, ignoring her father's extremely purple face. "I just had to send Parvati in to stay with Hermione in your place!" 

"Did you? It'll do her some good, I say." Alex sat back, breathed in the smell of the coffee, and sighed into the Styrofoam cup. "Hazelnut. Life is good."

"Why the hell are you so happy?"

"We're lucky Lavender took the kids away," Harry mused in a voice just inaudible under Hermione's steady stream on threats and curses.

Alex, meanwhile, shot Ginny a tired glare. "Look, I need a break, all right? I just had to sit with Fred when he got back to the port where I was waiting in France before making sure he got home safely-"

"When did you go to France?" Harry asked curiously.

"Unlike most of the Ministry, the International Affairs division has learned the convenience of pagers. I got beeped, I went to France, now I'm back."

Alex took a drink, closed his eyes, and paused for a moment. "So, as I was saying, Virginia, I have just finished a rather trying day, more if you include searching for… searching for Angelina… and to top it off, one of the wizards we sent with Fred seems to have wandered off. Her partner is looking for her right now."

Alarms went off in Harry's head. "Who?"

"Emma Dobbs. She tends to do this pretty often, at least in France. We figure she's just off helping take another litter of abandoned kittens to a kitchen or something. But it's a strain on Ministry resources right now, what with… everything… the dolt couldn't have picked a worse time to run off."

Alex look at Ginny in the eyes now. "So in answer to your question, I'm not happy, I'm just trying to relax, so feel free to bugger off."

Mr. Weasley's mouth dropped open, and Ginny's lips went into a tight, hard line. After a long moment, she spoke.

"Fine."

She picked up her own cup, and sat near Alex. "I'll just join you, then."

Harry's instincts, meanwhile, were screaming frantically.

***

            It was several hours later when a field office of sorts had been set up in the waiting room.  Harry had retreated into a corner with a stack of papers and a very leaden, unpleasant feeling in his stomach.  Even Hermione had quieted down, after Ron had at last been forced into the room by Ginny and Mr. Weasley, pushing together, their differences forgotten for the moment, though there was no doubt in anyone's head Ginny would be getting a piece of her father's mind soon enough.

            Emma Dobbs was now listed as missing.

            What had happened to Angelina had come out, when Terrence had dropped in, exhausted, lines around his eyes.  Harry had somehow found himself running the Auror division by default, though it was clear that Ginny, for one, would rather see him on probation until his brains were unscrambled.  Still, what had happened to Angelina hit him like a bucket full of ice water, and that with the details he was sure Terrence was withholding, considering the presence in the room of other parties.  That was when Ron had stopped struggling quite so violently against going in to his wife, and when Parvati had stopped with the pithy remarks, and when Ginny had gone silent as the grave, though her eyes still spoke volumes.  She was the authority in the room until Draco, wherever the hell he had gotten himself to, reappeared.  Harry was surprised she hadn't yet told him to take a hike.

            It was going on night now, and it was dark.  Harry had little Molly in his lap again, asleep, her arms wrapped around him.  Somehow, he still managed to work without disturbing the child.  Ron Jr. was also napping, his head leaning against his grandmother, who had appeared less than an hour ago, her expression hollow, though she had hugged all the members of her immediate and extended family fiercely.  Now all was relatively quiet save for Hermione, and Harry's muttering into a small portable telephone which connected him, albeit shakily, with Minister Poulain.  There was simply no place for a fire here.  Muggle conveniences would have to do.  He hung up, his headache progressively worse.

            A sandwich and a cup of coffee appeared almost magically on the table in front of him.  He looked up with surprise to find Lavender, her eyes kind.  "You look hungry."

            He discovered he was, and bit into the sandwich.  "Thanks, Lavender," he said.  In retrospect, he realized that often, when the voice of reason (namely Hermione) wasn't around, or was, for one reason or another, out of commission, Lavender took her place seamlessly.  "What time is it?"

            "Nearly midnight," Lavender said, shoving some papers off a chair and sitting down next to him.  "They should be just about done in there."  She stretched exhaustedly and glanced down the hall.  "She's too upset to be really… upset anymore.  We all loved Angelina.  Poor Fred."

            Harry nodded numbly.  "No one can find Emma, either.  This isn't going well at all."

            "Do you… mind if I ask?" Lavender said cautiously.  "I know I'm only a secretary, but what, exactly, _has been going on over there?  The pieces I have make no sense."_

            "Neither do the ones I have," Harry said exhaustedly.  "Don't ask until I figure it out."  As it was, something was tickling the back of his brain.  Something about Emma, kittens, and a flower shop he had recently visited.  It wasn't coming clear to him yet.

            "And the woman?" Lavender asked.  "It was the one from the dinner in China, wasn't it?  Parvati said she was very beautiful."

            "Parvati would know, wouldn't she," Harry said, a bit brusquely.  He ignored the warning light in Lavender's eyes.  "She has nothing to do with anything, and my private life is just that: private."

            Just then, silence, followed by a weak, but definitely infantile cry came from down the hall.  Someone started cheering.  Both Harry and lavender surged out of their seats and towards the closed door, along with everyone else in the room.  By the time the huge contingent had squeezed inside, Hermione, glowing and smiling sweetly as could be was cuddling a little, pink-wrapped bundle.  Ron was grinning too, stroking a finger over the little downy head.  The hair appeared to be auburn.  "It's a little girl," he said softly.  "Here, hold her, Godfather."

            Harry found himself with an armful of sleepy baby.  He smiled down at her.  Even after the hours of stressful waiting and everything that had happened in the past few days, it was a happy moment.  Little Molly had already climbed up on the bed with her mother and Ronald Jr. was settled on Ronald Sr.'s hip.  The baby yawned, and Harry passed her to Ginny who, just like with the other two, would be godmother.

            "We've decided on a name," Hermione said softly, her face serious.  "She's Angelina Jela Weasley."

            Tears came to more than one pair of eyes, and Molly the elder reached for her husband's hand and squeezed tightly.  Parvati, who had magically reappeared, had her arm around Lavender, who looked to be shaken quite badly.  Alex leaned against the doorframe, his expression thoughtful.  Ginny rocked the baby, her eyes full of tears and her mouth smiling.  "It's perfect."


End file.
